


Mirror Touch

by pinky_heaven19



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Chromesthesia, Fluff, Harry has a second-hand clothing store, Harry wears lipstick and nail polish, Hurt/Comfort, Louis sends Harry nudes, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Radio Host Louis Tomlinson, Sixty-nine, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Synesthesia, larry stylinson - Freeform, mirror-touch synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinky_heaven19/pseuds/pinky_heaven19
Summary: “You know I can see colors in sounds, right?”Harry nods, confused as Louis knew he would be.“Well, I have another type of synesthesia, called mirror-touch. Have you heard of it?”Harry shakes his head, and Louis can feel the tenseness in his shoulders and jaws slacking a little at the unexpected topic.“It means I feel what other people feel. Literally, all the time.”OR the one where Harry owns a second-hand clothing store, and Louis is a radio host. Louis has mirror-touch synesthesia, which makes him experience what people around him feel. He feels a lot around Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thank you for stopping by! I hope you like my fic, it was a fun one to write!
> 
> I'll let you know where the smutty parts begin and end in case you don't want to read it, I know it's not for everyone.
> 
> Enjoy your reading :D
> 
> Special thanks to [JohnDoe221B](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnDoe221B)  
> [Jaque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelie_drinking_tea/pseuds/amelie_drinking_tea)  
> [Bekita](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekita/profile) and  
> [B.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanficao3/pseuds/Fanficao3%20) for helping me beta this, for their support and song suggestions!

Harry’s life changes with a fall. Quite a spectacular one, at that. It might have been a stray branch, it might have been a bunch of wet leaves – he doesn’t have time to register anything but the cement floor coming up to meet him as he loses control of his bike and finds himself sprawled on the floor, momentarily dizzy.  
  
His heart is racing fast in his chest as he lets out a pained groan and looks at his right knee. It’s bleeding and small, prickly leaves and dirt are stuck to the awful looking scrape. His left leg is unscathed, but the same can’t be said about his hands. Both palms are red and his left wrist is also bleeding, but nothing a band aid won’t solve.  
  
“Shit, mate. You alright?”  
  
Harry looks up at the voice and sees the cause of his tumble, what distracted him so much that he literally fell. The guy Harry's been eyeing for weeks is coming towards him, forehead creased and pace fast. He quickly pulls the headphones from his head and lets them fall loosely around his neck.  
  
Harry gets up, wiping dirt from his shorts and shirt as best as he can, and picks up his bike. It’s in much better shape than he is, by the way.  
  
“That was quite a fall,” he continues, and Harry manages a smile.  
  
“It was nothing, I’m fine,” Harry reassures the beautiful stranger. Now that they’re close, Harry catches a proper look at his eyes. Blue, rich and so vibrant, Harry can’t quite understand how he hasn’t noticed them before. God knows how much time he spends staring at him.  
  
The man always sits on the same bench in the park with either a book in his hands or big, expensive looking headphones sitting atop his dark, tussled hair. Harry always makes sure he runs or rides past him at least a couple of times when he’s out during his morning exercise routine.  
  
“You didn’t hit your head or anything?” mystery blue eyes asks him, and when Harry shakes his head, he starts laughing, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, but that was so fucking funny,” he continues, and this time he actually bends down and puts his hands on his knees, shoulders shaking as he laughs.  
  
Harry laughs with him, couldn’t avoid it even if he tried. The man’s laugh is contagious, and Harry himself can rarely keep himself together when people fall near him anyway, so he can’t blame him. He has no doubt he must have looked ridiculous.  
  
“I’m sorry,” the man apologizes again, still giggling, but he seems to have gained more control of himself. “Come, let’s sit,” he tells Harry, who follows him to the bench, walking alongside his bike and wincing at the pain in his knee. He sets his bike against the back of the bench and lets himself fall on the bench, breathing deeply. His heart is still racing, but he doesn’t think it has anything to do with his falling, and everything to do with the beautiful boy next to him, who’s rummaging through his backpack.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” the man says, fetching a bottle of water and emptying it on the grass as he walks towards a drinking fountain and fills it up again with clean water. When he walks back, he’s staring at Harry's knee and rubbing his own through his jeans. He’s making a face Harry can’t understand at first, but then he realizes he looks almost pained. “To clean up your knee,” he says and hands Harry the bottle.  
  
Harry first pours some of the cool liquid on his wrist, scrubbing away the little bit of blood there and then moves on to his leg. His face scrunches up when he gingerly runs his hands along the wound. The tiny pieces of leaves are easy enough to wash, but the grains of dirty rub against the sensitive, bruised skin and Harry winces. He’s used almost the whole bottle when he finishes, and when he looks up the man is purposefully looking away from him.  
  
“Can’t stand blood?” Harry asks him, trying to get his attention. The man looks at his face and forces smiles.  
  
“Cuts and scrapes in general,” he answers, and quickly glances at Harry's knee. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he says and scratches at his own knee. “I have some hand sanitizer, if you want to disinfect it,” he adds and Harry nods.  
  
He watches as the man reaches for his backpack again. His hands are small and almost covered by the jumper he’s wearing. It’s a crisp autumn morning and now that Harry’s body is losing its warmth from his exercising, he can feel the chill in the air, the sweat damp neck at the base of his hair starting to dry.  
  
His body lights up on fire again when he pours the 99% alcohol solution on his scraped knee and lets out a whispered “fuck” as he feels the burn crawl over his skin and closes his eyes tight, waiting for the pain to lessen. It does, and when he opens his eyes again he sees the man breathing fast and looking the other way.  
  
“Thanks for helping me, huh…” he says, and the man reaches out his hand towards him.  
  
“Louis, Louis Tomlinson.”  
  
“Harry Styles,” he says and they shake hands. Louis' is cold and dry, while Harry feels his own clammy and a tad too warm.  
  
“You’re welcome,” he says in a cheerful tone and lets go of Harry's hand. “What happened there?”  
  
“Don’t know, really,” Harry says and hides the fact that the cause of his tumble was the near unblinking staring towards Louis when riding past him. He considers himself lucky Louis didn’t notice it. He stands up and grabs his bike. He doesn’t want to leave, not when he finally got a chance to talk to Louis.  
  
“Better start wearing knee pads from now on,” Louis comments and Harry smiles, throwing one leg over the bike and adjusting himself on the seat. Just putting the feet on the pedal makes a new spark of pain surge through his bruised knee.  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind. See you around, Louis?” He says and Louis nods.  
  
“See you around, Harry. Try not to fall to your death next time,” he says and Harry chuckles before riding away. He only glances back when he’s about to turn around the corner, and Louis has his headphones back on his head.  
  
                                                                                                ~X~  
  
It’s two days later that he sees Louis again. Harry is swamped with donations and, therefore, a pile of laundry taller than himself. He loves his second hand clothing store, he really does, but when he’s elbow deep in buckets of soapy water with clothes stained with God knows what, he second guesses his life choices.  
  
It doesn’t help that his sudden extra load of work – combined with his injured knee – is what’s keeping him from seeing Louis again. He glances at the clock and realizes his lunch break is almost over, and he needs to get back to the front of the store soon. In an attempt to lighten his mood, he dries his hands and turns on the radio. He immediately changes stations when he listens to _Despacito_. It was fun at first, but if he has to listen to that song one more time…  
  
He presses the button to look for another station. He doesn’t listen to the radio a lot, prefers to turn on Spotify’s playlists to play at the store when it’s open - and has his own personal playlists as well – but his phone is charging in his office and he doesn’t feel like walking there.  He changes stations for a few more seconds until a smile completely overcomes his face. Shania Twain is coming loudly through the speakers of the stereo. It’s an old, bulky thing, but it belonged to his dad and he can’t seem to part with it.  
  
Harry hums along with it, getting back to washing the worst stains by hand, trying not to ruin the delicate lace of the dress in his hands. It’d be a pity to lose such a timeless piece. He freezes when the radio jack starts speaking as soon as the song ends. He recognizes the voice.  
  
_“That was Shania Twain’s You’re Still the One that you’ve just heard. Hope your wife got to listen to it, George. Next up on the line we’ve got Lindsay, how are you doing, love?”_  
  
It’s Louis. Louis, from the park. Harry would recognize that voice and the Yorkshire accent anywhere. He barely listens to what the caller is saying, too surprised to pay attention, but his ears perk up when Louis starts speaking again.  
  
_“Excellent choice, darling. You’re listening to The Flow, the place for good music and good conversation. Next up is Offspring, Why Don’t You Get a Job.”_  
  
The sound effect from the station plays briefly and loudly before the first chords of the song start.  
  
Harry is certain that it’s Louis. He’s only spoken to him once, that’s true, but Harry’s focus had been sharp.  
  
He spends the rest of the afternoon listening to the radio, smiling to himself when Louis makes a particularly funny comment while chatting with a caller. He’s funny and engaging, and Harry wonders why he doesn’t have a spot where he can speak more. His chats are brief in between songs, and Harry can tell the focus of the show really is the music, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear Louis talk forever.  
  
Harry says goodbye to his last costumer – an old man who comes by every Thursday to see if new hats have arrived. Harry’s items are based purely on what people bring to his store so he has absolutely no way of knowing what’s coming next, but he likes the company and the relationship he’s built with some of the regulars.  
  
He’s closing up the shop when another song ends and Louis starts speaking again.  
  
_“That’s all for today, beautiful people. Thanks to everyone who called in today with their requests. Now you’ll get to spend some time with the amazing, remarkable, bloody fantastic Nick.”_  
  
Harry can hear somebody speaking next to Louis, but the mic is clearly off.  
  
_“Of course I meant it, I’m offended you’d think otherwise! Anyway, we’ve had a great selection today, and now to my personal favorite of the day. This was Tommo On Demand, and I’ll hear you tomorrow, at noon.”_  
  
David Bowie starts playing one more time, and Harry waits for the song to be over before turning off the radio and locking the front door, going up the stairs to the small flat on the second floor of the store.  
  
Harry drops the keys on the vinyl bowl by the end table – one of the many DYI projects scattered around his house. Harry is an avid user of Pinterest and has twenty seven different boards, all filled with projects he has yet to try.  
  
“Hey, Pete,” Harry greets the cactus next to the bowl. It sits in a pretty red vase, and Harry has an alarm on his phone to remind him to water it once a week.  
  
Harry removes his shoes and puts them neatly by the door. Whistling, he walks to the bathroom to wash his hands. The bathroom and the bedroom are the only other proper rooms in the flat. The rest of the place is one single, spacious room, which doubles as a kitchen and living room. The place is fully decorated to his taste, with light furniture and white fixtures. The living room overhead lamp is made of white yarn – another Pinterest project.  
  
Harry had wrapped a balloon in yarn soaked in glue, making a crisscross pattern with only the space for the light bulb to go inside. After it was dry, he’d popped the balloon and installed the lamp, which made for a unique and pretty piece in his living room.  
  
Harry puts his clothes in the washing bin and takes a quick shower. He pats himself dry and wraps his long hair in a towel for it to dry a little before letting it down. He changes into clean clothes and walks barefoot to his bedroom.  
  
The long day is catching up with him, and he considers just ordering take out instead of cooking, but eventually decides against it. Then he won’t have any leftovers for lunch the next day and will have to eat out again.  
  
Usually Harry turns on the television as background noise for when he’s cooking, but as he grabs the remote, he thinks twice of it and turns on his laptop. The website for The Flow is easy enough to find, and with a click he is listening to it live.  
  
He listens to the hosts talking about relevant events of the day, both in the music industry and worldwide, all while playing songs in between blocks of chatting. Harry laughs at some of the comments as he cooks up some fried rice and grills some chicken.  
  
He eats alone, as he often does. Most of his friends are back home, and despite having lived in London for almost two years, he still hasn’t managed to find a solid group of friends. Working alone, he doesn’t have the chance to mingle with co-workers, and his friendly conversations with customers are pleasant and all, but they end when his store closes.  
  
He blames reaching out to Louis again on his unusually insistent feelings of loneliness. He’s relieved when he rounds the corner of the park and sees Louis sitting on his usual spot. He’s wearing a green jumper with his faithful skinny jeans and Vans, and Harry can’t help but smile when he approaches him, hands deep in his jacket pockets.  
  
“Hello, Louis,” he greets and Louis looks up from his book. He smiles instantly.  
  
“Hello, Harold,” Louis greets back and Harry feels a rush as he listens to Louis' voice in person after only hearing it on the radio for the last couple of days. He decides it’s a good enough topic to start the conversation.  
  
“Do you work on the radio?” he asks with a tilt of his head.  
  
“No, that’s my twin brother Leonard, but our voices are remarkably similar, aren’t they?” Louis asks, trying for serious but failing. His lips curl up in a smile that make Harry smile as well. Louis puts his backpack on the ground and pets the space next to him on the bench.  
  
Harry sits, the coldness of the wood making him shiver involuntarily. Louis pulls the sleeves of his own jumper in an attempt to warm himself as well.  
  
“Are you and Leonard very similar in other ways?” he asks, playing along.  
  
“I’m much better looking than he is,” Louis scoffs and Harry chuckles. “But yeah, that’s me. Do you listen to my segment often? Do you want an autograph?”  
  
“No,” Harry continues, giggling. Louis' humor, startling blue eyes and gorgeous face making his stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ve only listened to it this week, actually.”  
  
“Are you stalking me, Harold? Did you follow me to work? ” Louis puts his hand on his chest dramatically and Harry is quick to shake his head.  
  
“No no no – I was just browsing through the stations and recognized your voice, that’s all,” Harry says, fidgeting uncomfortably on the bench.  
  
“I don’t know how you could, I have a very ordinary voice,” Louis says, dramatically closing the book and putting it aside.  
  
“Not to mention your very ordinary accent,” Harry comments and Louis points a finger at him.  
  
“There’s also that,” he replies. “How’s the knee?” he asks, changing the subject and tilting his head to Harry's leg. He’s wearing jeans, and there’s a band-aid still covering the worst of it. “It still hasn’t been amputated, so I take it it’s healing well?”  
  
“It is, thanks for asking. It only hurts a bit now,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders, as if he hasn’t cursed every single time he showered when soap got into the wound.  
  
“Haven’t seen you around on your bike since, so I guess it’s more than a bit.”  
  
Harry looks at him, but Louis is looking ahead, at the woman walking her dog. Louis has noticed he hasn’t been around, and Harry can only temper down his enthusiasm so much. “Yeah, well, I’ve been working quite a bit, too.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Louis looks at him then, interested. A gush of wind makes Harry's hair fall on his face and Harry quickly puts the untamed curls behind his ear, thinking how beautiful Louis looks messing with his own hair. His fingers are delicate on his forehead as he brushes his already styled fringe out of his face. “What do you do?”  
  
“I own a second hand clothing store,” Harry says proudly, chest puffing, and Louis raises his eyebrows.  
  
“Oh, really?” His tone is doubtful and Harry doesn’t understand it.  
  
“Yeah, why?”  
  
“Didn’t know you could make a living out of it, that’s all,” Louis adds and Harry smiles.  
  
“I don’t plan on getting rich doing it, and it’s certainly not as cool as being on the radio, but I love it,” he explains, breathing warm air on his cold hands. The mornings are getting cooler and cooler.  
  
“You could be on the radio, you have a deep voice,” Louis comments and Harry almost flushes. “And the way you speak is very… unique,” he finishes off and Harry furrows his brows.  
  
“Thanks?” He asks and Louis smiles. Harry smiles back because Louis' whole face lights up when he smiles.  
  
“You’re welcome. Of course we’d have to add ten more minutes to any program to accommodate your slow cadence.”  
  
“Heeeey,” Harry says, pretending to be mad. Louis' smile makes the comment lose its sting.  
  
“Speaking of work, time for me to go to mine,” Louis says, and Harry stands up along with him. Harry is going to be more than a little late to open his store himself, but he couldn’t force himself to end their conversation.  
  
It’s only then Harry realizes Louis is shorter than him. He’s only seen him sitting down, and it takes him by surprise. Sure, Louis' frame is slim, but his presence makes him seem bigger than he really is.  
  
“What?” Louis asks and Harry realizes he’s staring.  
  
“Nothing,” he says and walks beside Louis. Luckily, their path seems to be the same for now. “You should come by the store, some time. I’m sure we could find you something special and exclusive to wear.”  
  
Louis smiles and shakes his head. “I’m afraid I’m not into fashion that much. Vans and t-shirts are enough for me,” he explains.  
  
Harry has a feeling it’s not true, but he doesn’t push it. They reach a stop light and he realizes this is where they split.  
  
“Where is your shop, just in case?” Louis asks before they part ways.  
  
“Faulkner Street, 114. Next to a crafts shop, you can’t miss it,” he explains, pointing to the general direction of where the shop is, and Louis nods. Harry buys most of the things for his projects there and has developed a friendly relationship with the owner. They occasionally have lunch together, and Harry is grateful to have somebody to share a meal with. He feels tired of eating alone most of the time.  
  
“I’ll stop by if I have time,” Louis says with a tilt of his head, says goodbye and walks away.  
  
Harry turns on the radio to Louis' station as soon as he opens the shop and enjoys listening to the host of the show that airs before Louis' time. Harry hears the name Payno, but is not sure if that’s a real name or not, but he likes his voice, fast speaking, and the way he’s endlessly polite with callers in the discussion of current events.  
  
Harry identifies the songs as being very popular and current, a concept somewhat different from Louis' show, which has a good mix of both current and old ones, whichever listeners prefer. He’s becoming an avid listener.  
  
Louis airs at 12:30 and Harry smiles while he eats his lunch in the back. He finds Louis' voice and the way he speaks absolutely endearing, and waits eagerly for the songs to finish to hear it again.  
  
It’s three in the afternoon when the bell above his door rings and he doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is. He’s bopping along to Tubthumping by Chumbawamba, silently mouthing the words to himself.  
  
“Hey, Jules,” Harry greets the seventeen year old girl walking into his shop.  
  
She immediately drops her schoolbag against the counter and puts her elbows on the wooden surface. Her wavy brown hair is held back by a headband – which she, of course, got from Harry's shop – and her lively eyes look a little frantic behind her glasses when she speaks. “You don’t happen to know everything there is to know about Atonement, by….” She rummages through her bag, pulling out a book and reading from its cover “Ian McEwan, do you?”  
  
Harry smirks. “I’ve only watched the movie, sorry. But James McAvoy is great in it, so.”  
  
She sighs in frustration, dropping her head on the counter with a muffled thump. “I have to hand in this report tomorrow.”  
  
“And you didn’t even know who wrote it,” Harry chimes in, and she shakes her head, face still hiding from him. “Just watch the movie and hope for the best.”  
  
“I can’t write a report based on a movie, the teacher will know,” she looks at him like he’s from another planet.  
  
“You’d be surprised.”  
  
“I’ll just try to read it today and write anything,” she says and sighs, falling to the floor and resting her back on the front of the counter. Harry listens to the ruffling of the pages as the girl gets down to business.  
  
Julie comes to his shop every Tuesdays and Thursdays as she kills time until she needs to go to volleyball practice. Harry never thought he would be friends with a teenager, but he likes their conversations and how interested in fashion she is.  
The song comes to an end and Harry's ears peak up.  
  
“That was Chambawamba, what a classic. Fun fact, they were initially a punk band, and this song is a reflection of the working class man, who finds joy in the misery that is life. Every day is a school day, am I right? Next up we have Charlie, what’s up?”  
  
Louis' voice is cheerful and he starts an easy conversation with the next listener. Harry feels tempted to call, but quickly dismisses the idea. He’s never called the radio before, why would he start now? Maybe he should get a second opinion.  
  
“Julie?” he calls and leans over the counter. He can see the top of her head and the way she’s flipping the pages is too fast for her to actually be absorbing anything. “Do you think it’d be cool if I called the radio and asked for a song?”  
  
She puts a pencil to mark her page and looks up at him. “What?” she says after quite a few uncomfortable seconds of staring.  
  
“Yeah, like call this radio station? It seems cool, right?”  
  
She opens her mouth, closes it again and nods. “I guess. What song do you wanna ask for?”  
  
Harry thinks for a bit. He has no idea.  
  
“What do you think I should ask?”  
  
“Why do you wanna call if you don’t even know what song you want to listen?” she asks, waving the book around.  
  
“Good point,” he admits, unable to confess he only wants to talk to Louis on the radio. How silly is that? He’s afraid he’ll ask for a stupid song and sound like an idiot, and he’s also afraid of sounding condescending and a giant snob, which he hates.  
  
                                                                                                ~X~  
  
Harry gets the scare of his life when, about thirty minutes before he closes the next day, Louis walks into his shop. He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, and Harry is so taken aback that it takes him a while to continue breathing again.  
  
He looks so beautiful, and his face looks so open and curious as he walks around the shop, quickly looking at the racks and piles and piles of clothes that Harry tries to keep organized, but never quite manages to do so.  
  
He spots Harry and walks straight to him. “Tell me my eyes deceive me and that _Harry’s Styles_ is not the actual name of your shop.”  
  
Harry’s face splits into a dimpled grin. “Don’t you like it? I think it’s quite creative, if I can say so myself.”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes and puts his hands flat on the counter, fingers slowly sliding against the grainy wood. “It’s a pun. You named your business, your bread winner, with a pun.”  
  
“I did,” Harry says, smile never leaving his face. It isn’t long before Louis breaks into a grin.  
  
“You’re a ridiculous man, did you know that?” Louis asks Harry, but he sounds far from offensive.  
  
“I’ve been told,” he says and watches as Louis walks around, examining things more closely.  
  
“Where do you get all this stuff?” he asks Harry, who is following him around with his hands clasped behind his back, as he always does when he has a customer who might need his assistance. He catches a glimpse of himself in one of the wall mirrors and makes a face. His hair is a total mess, his t-shirt is wrinkled at the waist and he needs a shave. Nothing he can do about any of those things, now.  
  
“I buy most of it, but some people just donate them.”  
  
“From people who’ve died?” Louis asks, picking a jeans jacket from a rack and examining it.  
  
“Those too, but mostly people just want to declutter,” Harry explains. “The jacket you’re holding was from a guy who was in a band. See the applique on the back?” Louis turns it around and sees flames going up two block letters, HP. “That’s his band logo.”  
  
“Why did he give it away?” Louis asks, putting it back.  
  
“He was kicked out of the band. Had a fight with the drummer and broke a drumstick on the guy’s head.”  
  
That brings Louis' attention back to him. “No way, what were they fighting about?”  
  
Harry smiles and raises on the tips of his toes. “They rehearsed at his house and one day the drummer stepped on his dog’s paw and didn’t apologize.”  
  
Louis giggles. “That seems like good enough reason,” he says, and Harry smiles along with him. “You have some pretty cool stuff in here,” Louis says, going back to browsing. “Do all of them have a story?”  
  
“I’m sure they do, but not all people like to talk. Some just come in, dump everything on the floor and leave. I like to chat with the people that come in here, find out what they’re looking for and why they are giving some of their stuff away.”

“Do you keep everything?” Louis says as he goes to the part of the shop where the hats are located. Harry’s hand itch to put a purple hat with a feather on Louis' head. Too early for that.  
  
“What I think will sell, yes. Whatever else I don’t feel like keeping I give away to charity. If it’s in good condition, of course,” he quickly adds.  
  
Louis puts his hands on his waist and looks around the place. “It’s a nice shop,” he finally says and Harry grins.  
  
“Thanks. Are you looking for something in particular?” Harry asks, not able to hide his curiosity.  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I just wanted to see what it was like. Maybe another time,” he says while toying with the hem of his t-shirt.  
  
“Thank you for dropping by,” Harry says, leaning on his left foot. Louis is still looking around, taking the place in, and Harry can’t keep his eyes away from him. The sharp edge of his cheekbones shine in the yellowy light of the corner of the shop.  
  
Louis smiles at him and walks past him, going towards the door. Harry takes a few steps in his direction and stops in the middle of the store, not wanting to be creepy. Well, creepier than he thinks he already has been.  
  
Louis opens the door and the sounds from the city waft into the shop, along with the smell of exhaust and rain – two smells that Harry will always associate with London. He turns around and looks at Harry. He looks uncertain when he speaks. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”  
  
“Sure, I know where you like to sit,” Harry jokes and Louis gives him a weak smile before closing the door after him.  
  
Harry sighs, running his hands through his hair. His heart is beating a little faster than usual, and he looks up at the clock to see it’s only ten minutes until he closes. He’s starting to check the money in the register when the bell chimes and in walks Louis, who reaches him in a quick, decisive stride.  
  
“My mates and I are meeting at the pub later, you wanna join us?” he asks, his words coming out in a single breath.  
  
Harry’s cheek dimples. “I’d love to.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry knows it’s not a date. His rational mind knows that Louis' friends will be there with them, and that it was nothing but a polite invitation. Still, his heart is racing a little bit as he takes the tube to the address Louis gave him.   
  
They are supposed to meet at eight o’clock, and Harry thinks he’ll be right on time. He glances down at his phone, trying to distract himself during the last ten minutes of his tube ride and to stop doubting his choice of clothing. Pub nights are usually casual, but he likes the opportunity to dress nice.   
  
He wipes some imaginary dust from his black skinny jeans and fumbles with the cuff of his long sleeved shirt. It’s one of his favorite, green with a pretty, dark flower pattern. He’s gotten it from a woman who was cleaning out her closet after losing weight. She was getting rid of all her bigger clothes as an incentive to maintain her new figure. It fits perfectly around his shoulders and is long enough for his torso. He was lucky she was tall. It _is_ a little bit see through, and under bright lights it’s possible to see the outline of the tattoos on his chest, but he figures the pub’s lights will be dim enough.   
  
He hugs himself against the cold wind as he walks up the stairs to the curb, and is greeted by a bustling street filled with young people enjoying their Friday night. He smiles to himself and stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, paying attention to the names of the streets, looking for the pub.   
  
It doesn’t take him more than a couple of blocks to reach his destination. It’s easy enough to find, the coat of arms hovering above the door. It’s called _The Snake and Lion_ , and all Harry can think about when he sees it, is Harry Potter.   
  
He opens the door and is hit with sound and heat right away. The place is almost full and warm enough that Harry immediately takes off his coat. He can smell booze and hear laughter. Somebody shouts to his left and his attention is drawn to that direction. There, he sees Louis standing next to a booth, waving him over.   
  
Harry smiles and walks to him, dodging people as he makes his way to Louis. He looks absolutely gorgeous in a long sleeved white shirt. He notices Louis looking at him and bites his lips. He doesn’t want to increase his expectations but Louis seemed to be checking him out.  
  
“Hello,” Harry says and Louis pats him on the shoulder.   
  
“Hey, come on, sit,” Louis motions and Harry looks into the booth. There are two men sitting on opposite sides, both staring up at him with welcoming smiles on their faces. “This is Liam Payne, this is Niall Horan. This is Harry Styles,” Louis introduces them and Harry shakes their hands.   
  
“It’s lovely to meet you,” he says as he sits down next to Liam, putting his coat on his lap and his phone and wallet on the table. Liam and Niall already have a drink in front of them, but apparently not Louis.   
  
“Our pleasure,” Liam says and Harry's eyes snap towards him, recognizing the voice.  
  
“Are you Payno?” he asks, and the man smiles. He has a perfectly kept beard and kind eyes.   
  
“That’s me, yeah,” Liam confirms, smiling wide.  
  
“I heard you on the radio the other day, cool segment.” He turns to Niall. “Do you work on the radio, too?”  
  
“Not me, we can’t all be celebrities here,” he says and takes a sip of his beer. Harry notices his Irish accent and smiles. He doesn’t feel too nervous anymore.   
  
“Thanks for inviting me,” he tells them all, but looks at Louis when he’s done speaking.  
  
“We were all dying to meet you,” Liam tips his head to Niall and then to Louis, “Louis won’t shup up about pretty Harry from the park.”

Harry can see Louis’ body jerk as he kicks Liam under the table. Not being subtle about the pain it inflicted, Liam grimaces. “Thought you didn’t do that”, he says a little too whiny for his gruff appearance.  
  
“As it turns out, it does hurt you more than it does me,” Louis says with a raise of his brow. Harry is not sure about the exchange happening in front of him and the meaningful looks, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re friends and probably have a ton of inside jokes. Harry wishes he had close friends like that to share this experience.   
  
“Want something to drink?” Niall offers as he finishes his pint and waves down a waitress.  
  
Harry orders a pint, but Louis sticks to water, making Harry wonder if he doesn’t drink at all.  
  
“Let’s hope you’re a good asset to this team, Harold,” Louis tells him with a sly smile and Harry furrows his brows.   
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Louis raises his brows and Harry follows his gaze until he sees an improvised podium behind the bar, right under a huge flat screen TV with the words Pub Quiz Night flashing on the screen. He turns to the group with a big grin on his face.  
  
“No way,” he says and thanks the waitress who puts down his drink in front of him. “I’ve always wanted to play in one of these,” he says, voice raising an octave as he squirms in his seat. He tries to temper down his enthusiasm, not wanting to look too eager. Ever since he learned about it – from his stepdad who participated in one during a trip to London – Harry has thought it was an amazing way to spend a night.   
  
His family always plays trivia questions, it’s one of their favorite things to do when he goes to visit them, and he thinks playing against more people will only increase the fun.   
  
They all smile at him, and Harry feels warm inside. It’s a few seconds later when a man takes the microphone and clears his throat. The noise in the bar decreases considerably.   
  
“Good evening, and welcome to our weekly Pub Quiz Night.” A few cheers erupt from the crowd around them, making Harry smile. “I can see some new faces tonight, that’s very nice,” he says, glancing around the place. People are clearly separated in groups. “For the new additions, we have six rounds where we’ll give your team a paper with eight questions each, and you’ll have a set limit of 10 minutes to give them back to a helper. We’ll also have one round with pictures and one round with music. Each correct answer will be awarded one point, and in case of a tie, there will be a lightning round. The winning group doesn’t have to pay for tonight’s tab.”  
  
Loud cheers erupt from the pub, and Harry laughs as Niall whistles loudly and Louis covers his ears and punches him in the arm.   
  
“Your cellphones will be put in the cellphone box and any other devices with internet connection are absolutely forbidden. You’ll have five minutes to come up with your team’s name.”  
  
A waitress comes and collects their phones, setting the plastic box at the end of the table with a stern warning to not be messed with.   
  
“So, what are we called?” Harry asks, leaning his body forward in a conspiratory way.  
  
“We get a new name each week. You do the honors,” Liam tells him and Harry immediately shakes his head.   
  
“No no no, I’m the new guy, don’t give me that responsibility,” he says and stretches his hands out in front of himself.   
  
“You’re the man who came up with the name Harry’s Styles, I’m sure you can think of something,” Louis encourages him and Harry bites his lips nervously, but nods in spite of his nervousness.  
  
He wracks his brains for something, something witty and funny, ideally a pun, but comes up short. The quizmaster is approaching their table to collect their name, and Harry stammers.   
  
“One- One Direction?”   
  
Everybody at the table looks at him and seem to ponder. Liam is the first to speak.   
  
“I like it. We’re a team, right? We want the same thing, to win.”  
  
Louis nods. “One Direction it is,” he decides for the group. When the quizmaster reaches their table Harry writes their group name on the slip of paper he’s given, making sure his handwriting is neat and clear, and the name is put on the edge of the table.   
  
“How difficult are those things?” Harry asks no one in particular, taking a sip of his beer. He wants to impress Louis, as stupid as it sounds.  
  
“Depends, but Louis never fails to get all the musical ones right,” Niall says and Harry can’t help but smile at the endearing way he speaks. He also can’t help but notice he’s put his arm around Louis' shoulder and how Louis leaned into his touch.   
  
“And Payno here always gets the picture ones right, this boy knows all celebrities,” Louis says, and Harry is about to comment he doesn’t know much about any specific topics when they all turn to look at the quizmaster, back at the podium.   
  
“Alright, are you all ready?” Cheers everywhere. “You’ll get your envelopes now, and when I count to three you’ll open them and write the answers right under the questions. You’ll have 10 minutes for the first round, which is _Entertainment_.”  
  
Louis thanks the waitress who’s brought their envelope and puts it on the table. They all stare at it as if it’s going to burst into flames at any second. There’s a nervous energy at the table that is not entirely proportional to the situation.  
  
“One,” the quizmaster starts, and they all look up. Harry's eyes meet Louis' and he feels his stomach churn at the small smirk Louis gives him. It’s full of mischief and childish delight. “Two, three!”  
  
Liam opens the envelope and they all huddle around the sheet of paper, craning their necks so that they can all read at the same time.   
  
“Fuck,” Harry mutters as his eyes skim the page and he realizes he knows only one answer, and that he’s too ashamed to admit he knows which country Céline Dion represented at the 1988 Eurovision.   
  
“What kind of fuckery is this?” Niall says, and he sounds so indignant about it that Harry snorts.   
  
“I know this one! Number two is Samuel L. Jackson, he’s always in Tarantino’s movies.”  
  
Liam must be the movie expert at the table because nobody questions him as he scribbles it down.   
  
Harry makes the mistake of glancing at Louis, who is looking at the paper with a focused complexion. His lips are pursed and the yellow light over the table accentuates his defined cheekbones, the curve of his nose and the pout in his lips. His eyelashes are casting shadows over his cheeks and Harry is staring, slack jawed. How ridiculous is that, to think somebody’s eyelashes are something to fond over? It makes absolutely no sense and Harry is entranced by them. He is so attracted to Louis that it’s not even funny anymore.   
  
He wishes the floor would collapse and swallow him whole when Louis looks up and catches him staring. He quickly adverts his gaze to the page and blurts out “Switzerland.”  
  
Harry feels their eyes on them, but he can’t gather up the courage to look and risk meeting Louis' gaze. He feels so embarrassed his cheeks must be crimson. “Céline Dion represented Switzerland in the Eurovision,” he says, and Liam writes it down without question.   
  
Harry finally looks up and sees that Louis is also trying to avoid his eyes, a pink tint to his cheeks. Harry cocks his head, confused at Louis' reaction. He looks just as embarrassed as Harry feels. He doesn’t have time to dwell on why that is because they only have one minute left and nobody knows which movie won the Oscars in bloody 2009. They guess (wrongly _) The Curious Case of Benjamin Button_ and pray for the best.   
  
They add six points to their tally and Harry feels proud to see they’re ahead of many groups in the score board.   
  
Next round, The World, doesn’t go as well. They guess half of their answers and Harry is pulling at this hair by the time it’s over. “Should we get something to eat? Some chips or sausage or something?” he suggests, his stomach protesting as he slouches back in his seat, waiting for the two judges to mark up their scores.   
  
Both Niall and Liam look at Louis as soon as Harry's done speaking. “Sure,” Louis says after a moment’s hesitation, nodding and smiling. Niall calls a waitress and they order some chips before getting their third envelope.   
  
This round, Science and Nature, takes him back to his school days when he tries really hard to remember if marble is a sedimentary, igneous or metamorphic type of rock. He has his index finger over the question, reading the words over and over in his head, the tip of his finger sliding on the paper as he mulls over the question.  
  
“Did you hurt your finger, mate?” Niall asks him and Harry doesn’t know what he’s talking about. A second later he realizes, to his horror, that his nail still has specks of the red polish he’d hastily removed that morning. It looks a little like blood if you quickly glance at it, and now everyone is looking at his hands. He puts them on his lap and away from their eyes.   
  
“I’m not hurt, it’s just…” he starts, and his eyes meet Louis'. They’re gentle and kind, and Harry swallows. “It’s just a little bit of nail polish,” he says, as bravely as he can.  
  
Louis' eyes become even softer. “Red is a bitch to remove, right? My sister is always complaining her fingers are stained after she wears red,” Louis comments nonchalantly and Harry feels the weight of the world fall from his shoulders.   
  
“Looked like blood, sorry if I made you self conscious,” Niall is saying, and looks genuinely sorry.   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry waves him off.   
  
“So, which one is it? We’re almost out of time,” Liam urges him, and Harry only has time to smile back at Louis before he makes up his mind on metamorphic. He guesses it right, and when Liam claps him on the shoulder and congratulates him on getting their team another point, Harry feels something he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels like he belongs. He feels like he’s part of a group, which makes no sense because he barely knows any of these men, but the connection he feels goes a little deeper than he can explain.   
  
Their food arrives and he observes that Louis isn’t talking much anymore, and he’s just picking at the food rather than actually eating. He wants to ask him if his stomach is okay, but feels they’re not intimate enough for him to be asking after him like that. None of the other guys seem to be worried about it, so Harry doesn’t bring it up.   
  
They truly shine in the next category, where a picture of a person appears on the screen and they have thirty seconds to write down who it is next to the corresponding number. As it turns out, Harry knows a lot more people than he thought he did.  
  
“How in the bloody hell did you know who the Queen’s third cousin is?” Louis teases him and Harry basks at the attention he’s getting from Louis, who’s been bantering with him the whole rest of the evening. He hasn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol but his cheeks are a little flushed and he’s speaking a little louder as the night goes on.   
  
“Who doesn’t?” Harry shoots back and Louis leans back in his seat with a devious smile on his face.   
  
“You’re a strange figure, Harold,” Louis says and Harry can’t disagree with him on that one.   
  
When the music round starts, Harry watches in awe as Louis identifies every single song in the first chords. He knows the year they were released and the album the songs are from. He shouldn’t be surprised, he works on the radio after all, but so does Liam and he’s not as knowledgeable as Louis is.   
  
They don’t win, Harry hasn’t expected them to, but it’s got to be one of the best nights he’s had since he moved to the city. They stay at the pub way after the game is over, and Harry feels his heart shrink a little when Liam announces he’s going home and they all agree to leave as well.   
  
They walk out of the pub a little after midnight and are greeted by the chilly air of downtown London.

“Thank you so much for having me tonight,” Harry says as he shakes Liam’s hand. His eyes crinkle with his smile and Harry feels his own curl up in response.   
  
“We loved having you, mate,” Niall says and pulls him in for a hug. “Join us next week, yeah?”  
  
“Definitely, if you’ll have me,” Harry answers, and they say their last goodbyes. Niall and Liam walk into a car parked nearby and Harry turns to Louis.   
  
“Did you drive here?” Louis asks, putting on his coat. Harry shakes his head, adjusting the collar of his own coat to protect his face from the bitter November wind.   
  
“Took the tube.”  
  
“Do you live far?” Louis asks him, and Harry shakes his head.   
  
“On the second floor of the store, actually.”  
  
“Do you want a lift?” Louis asks, tying a scarf around his neck. He asks like it’s no big deal, like his question hasn’t made Harry's heart almost leap out from his throat in excitement.   
  
“Hum, are you sure? It’s late,” he remarks and mentally kicks himself in the shins for it. What is he doing?  
  
“Yes, I’m sure, Harold,” he rolls his eyes and motions for Harry to follow him. “You’ll have to listen to my music, though. Nobody touches the radio in my car,” he teases and Harry starts following him around the corner.   
  
“I guess you have the right to play your music in your own car,” Harry agrees, puffing out air from his mouth in mock irritation. Louis gives him a smile before picking up his pace, going around the corner.   
  
They reach Louis' car, a convertible white Fiat 500 with a red vinyl roof, which wasn’t exactly what Harry would picture Louis driving, but it somehow fits him. Louis turns on the heat as soon as they get in, and Harry warms his cold hands in the air coming out from the vents.   
  
Louis turns the radio as soon as he settles himself in the seat, checking to see if Harry has put on his seat belt. Soft, classical music fills the small car and Harry giggles.   
  
“What?” Louis asks, turning on his signal and driving away from the curb.   
  
“I’m surprised with your music taste, is all,” Harry says and relaxes himself into the seat, the warm air finally decreasing his shivering.   
  
“Why? Thought I’d be too much of a chav to listen to classical music?” His words are harsh but his tone is far from it.   
  
“Not at all, it’s just that you seem to have a diverse taste in music, and I was not expecting something like this from a radio host,” he explains himself as much as he can. Louis drives slowly, maybe a little too slow for the calm traffic, but Harry doesn’t mind. He’s tired and has drunk enough to feel just a little sleepy, but he’s grateful for the extra time he gets to spend with Louis. “What is it, anyway?” he asks, enjoying the growing crescendo.  
  
“It’s Bolero, by Maurice Ravel, one of my all time favorites.”  
  
“Haven’t heard of him,” Harry says after a second. “Only know the most famous ones, and don’t know which is which,” he admits a little shamefully.  
  
“Well, no one is perfect,” Louis teases and glances at him with an amused smile.   
  
For a moment they sit in silence, just enjoying the music. Harry closes his eyes, feeling relaxed and tired. He’s about to ask Louis who his other favorite composers are when loud, much louder than what is appropriate for a late night drive, high pitched dubstep fills the car. He nearly jumps out of his skin and Louis is laughing, laughing like he can’t stop it.   
  
“Jesus Christ,” Harry stammers, sitting up and putting a hand on his chest. “Almost had a heart attack.”   
  
“Sorry, I didn’t remember this song came right after,” Louis says, small giggles still heaving his chest as he lowers the volume.  
  
“Good thing you’re the one driving, I would’ve crashed,” Harry says, his heart beat going back to normal.   
  
Louis is still smiling when he parks the car in front of _Harry’s Styles_ , shutting down the engine.   
  
“Thank you so much for inviting me tonight, I had a great time,” Harry says, feeling he needs to tell Louis exactly how much he appreciated being included in their little group.   
  
“Yeah, you did,” Louis says with a smile so fond that it transforms his face. His whole body language is relaxed and Harry feels a little more at ease. “You’re welcome to join us next week, we always go.”  
  
“Have you ever won?”   
  
“I’m appalled you could even imply we’d be so bad we’d never have won, Harold,” he says, frowning and adding, “No, we’ve never won. Maybe you can help us change that?”  
  
“I’ll do my best,” Harry says and puts his hand on the handle. “Good night, Louis, thanks for the lift.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
Harry gives him a pathetic little wave and steps out into the cold. He unlocks the door at the same time Louis starts the car again. With a last nod of his head, he walks in the store and locks the door behind him. He hears Louis drive away and stands there for a few seconds, thinking.   
  
He’s going to ask Louis out on a proper date.   



	3. Chapter 3

It is hard for Harry to contain his excitement. Taking Louis to a small, cozy Italian place might be a little cliché but he can’t wait for him to see the place. Great wine, amazing food – including a great selection of vegetarian options – Harry’s sure that Louis will love it. He can’t help but think about cooking for Louis himself. Hopefully he isn’t a vegan. Harry isn’t sure if there is anything vegan he can cook himself. He makes a mental note to look up some recipes later.  
  
Harry is going to wear his nice, black silk shirt, he’s going to put on his favorite cologne and, if he’s lucky, he might get to kiss Louis at some point in their evening out. The problem is, he doesn’t have Louis' phone number.  
  
Harry doesn’t have Louis' phone and no other way of contacting him. In true British form, it’s been raining cats and dogs since Monday morning so Harry hasn’t seen him in their casual meetings at the park.  
  
Even though he won’t admit it, Harry is sulking and his nervousness about asking Louis out is only increasing with each day that passes. Work has been busy so he’s got that to distract himself with. He’s eating his lunch when his favorite part of the day begins.  
  
_“Hello darlings, this is Tommo and you’re now listening to On Demand right here in The Flow.”  
_  
Harry smiles at the sound of Louis' voice. He sounds so different in person, somehow. His accent gets a little thicker as well, and Harry is growing more and more endeared by it.  
  
_“From now on, you can ask me for your favorite tunes and I’ll be happy to play them for you. We’re live with our first caller. Who am I speaking to?”  
  
“Hi, it’s Jen.”  
  
“Well hello Jen, how are you doing this fine Tuesday?”  
  
“I’m good, thank you. Can you play Green Day? Basket Case?”  
  
“You’re spoiling me, Jen. You want me to choose your song as my favorite of the day, right? Here goes, darling. Green Day, Basket Case.”  
_  
The song starts playing and Harry taps his feet to the beat. He finishes his meal as the song fades out and Louis takes another call asking for a different song. And then it hits him. He _can_ contact Louis.  
  
He has the station number memorized from listening to it nonstop, and he doesn’t give himself time to ponder if he really should be doing this. He takes his phone and calls him.  
  
The line doesn’t ring, and he doesn’t get a busy signal either. He pulls the phone from his face to see if the call went through and quickly brings it back to his ear when a voice starts speaking.  
  
_“You’ve called The Flow, please hold while your call is connected. If you’re close to the sound system, please lower the volume.”  
_  
Harry’s heart starts beating faster. Will he get through? He’s never called the radio before, doesn’t know if he’ll be next or if he’s even getting to talk to Louis and not some random person who works at the station. Still, he does what he’s told and lowers the volume in his store. At least he knows what song to ask for.  
  
He can still faintly hear the song ending and he swallows dry. His lunch feels like a ball of lead in his stomach.  
  
_“That was Aerosmith’s Don’t Want to Miss a Thing, a classic that withstood the test of time. Great song, horrible movie. Who’s next?”  
_  
Harry’s voice dies in his throat. He’s hearing Louis' voice directly in his ear, through this phone and not the radio. Still, it’s with a tentative voice that he says, “Hi, this is Harry.”  
  
It takes a moment for Louis to reply, and Harry thinks he’s not actually speaking to him live. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but then Louis speaks and Harry breaks into a grin.  
  
_“Hello, Harold. Having a good day?”  
_  
There’s a little bit more humor in his voice there, and Harry's sure Louis recognized his voice.  
  
“I am, thank you. And you?”  
  
_“I am, very glad you called. I have a feeling you have a great taste in music, Harold. What do you wanna hear today? Perhaps Switzerland’s Eurovision representative in 1998, Céline Dion?”  
_  
Harry chuckles into the phone and shakes his head, fully aware Louis can’t see him but doing it anyway.  
  
“No, I was thinking about another one. Animal, by Neon Trees.”  
  
_“Excellent choice.”  
_  
The song starts to play and Harry is not sure if he should hang up. Not even two seconds later Louis is talking to him again. This time, it’s only between them.  
  
“You called me at the station,” Louis says.  
  
“I did. Didn’t have your phone number and I wanted to talk to you again.”  
  
“That was actually very sweet of you,” Louis says with a lower tone of voice, as if he doesn’t want other people around him to hear. “We can only talk until the end of the song, then I have to take another call.”  
  
“Can I have your number? So I don’t have to call the station every time I want to talk to you?”  
  
“I don’t know, I kind of like the working hours thing going on here. Getting paid to talk to boys with deep, beautiful voices,” Louis says and Harry can hear the smile in his voice.  
  
“Guess I’ll have to start calling Liam, then.”  
  
“Liam won’t even take callers in his segment,” Louis says with a chuckle. “Got a paper to write it down?”  
  
Harry fumbles with a pen that won’t work, obviously, and gets the number in the nick of time. After a very rushed goodbye, the call disconnects and the song ends.  
  
Louis' voice is back, but not only for Harry this time. He’s pleased nonetheless. He’s got Louis' phone number and he’s gonna ask him out.  
  
He decides to text instead of calling. He thinks he looked desperate enough when he called the station, especially when the skies clear up the very next day and he finds Louis sitting in his usual spot at the park.  
  
Louis is waiting for him with a smile when he approaches with his bike.  
  
“Good morning, Harold.”  
  
“Hey,” Harry greets and sits down next to him. He picks his bottle of water and takes three big gulps. “How are you?”  
  
“Fine and dandy, thank you. Mind telling me where we’re going tonight?”  
  
Harry smirks. He’s made a point of simply asking Louis if he was free and not giving much away.  
  
“Are you scared you’re gonna hate wherever I take you?”  
  
“It’s not that, it’s just that I have some eating… issues, and depending on what your plans are I’d really like to know ahead” he adds, and Harry is suddenly serious.  
  
“Oh, I didn’t realize –”  
  
“It’s fine, I’m just not your wine and dine kind of guy. I’ll tell you what, I’ll pick you up at around seven tonight, is that good? And we can do something that doesn’t involve food.”  
  
Harry nods, looking at his scuffed tennis shoes. Does Louis have an eating disorder? As if reading his mind, Louis interrupts his train of thoughts.  
  
“I don’t have any serious eating disorders, okay? I’m just really uncomfortable around other people eating, I eat just fine on my own.”  
  
“It’s fine, you don’t owe me any explanation,” Harry says and Louis smiles and purses his lips.  
  
“Seven okay, then? Enough time for you to eat before we go?”  
  
Harry nods again. “Sounds great. Where are we going?”  
  
Louis smirks. “It’s a secret, but pray for terrible cold.”  
  


~x~  


At 6:50pm, Harry is ready. He is indeed wearing his black silk shirt and favorite cologne. He’s texted Louis if he needs to wear super comfortable shoes but Louis simply replied with “you won’t need your shoes” so Harry's more puzzled than ever.  
  
At exactly two minutes to seven he goes downstairs, carrying his coat and already wearing his scarf draped over his shoulders. He figures he’ll wait for Louis at the door of the shop, but keeps the door unlocked in case Louis wants to come inside before they leave.  
  
Harry is as nervous as he is excited. He hasn’t gone out on a date in _ages_ , and now he’s about to go on one with the prettiest boy, with the most gorgeous blue eyes and soft mouth. And a mouth watering butt, if Harry is completely honest with himself, which he tries to be more often than not.  
  
He sees Louis' car turning the corner and smiles. Louis is very punctual, it seems. His smile falters a little when he notices how fast Louis parks, quite crooked next to the curb. He pretty much jumps out of the car, and he looks half amused and half pained.  
  
“Hi, hello, good evening, can I use your bathroom?” he blurts out and Harry laughs.  
  
“Sure, come on in,” Harry opens the door behind them and Louis dashes through the shop, walking without hesitation to the only door at the back of the shop.  
  
“Downloaded this stupid app to remind me to drink more water and I’m peeing every five minutes!” he explains as Harry motions for him to go ahead and up the stairs. “I mean, is being hydrated really worth all this peeing? Jesus Christ,” he says and Harry can only chuckle. He knows the feeling, drinking at least two liters of water a day, religiously.  
  
“Door to your left,” Harry tells him and watches as he disappears in the hallway. Harry leans against the kitchen counter, smiling to himself. Not two minutes later, he hears the sound of the toilet flushing. And it doesn’t stop.  
  
“Shit,” he mumbles and walks towards it.  
  
“Harry?” Louis calls, opening the door just as Harry reaches it. “I don’t know how, but I think I broke your toilet.”  
  
“It’s been doing that for a couple of days,” Harry says, stepping inside and fiddling with the toilet pump. It stops as soon as he lifts it and he puts the lid back on. “I keep forgetting to fix it.”  
  
“Quite a handyman, are you?” Louis asks and Harry chuckles.  
  
“Not really, but there’s an YouTube tutorial for everything,” he says with a smile, but when he turns around he sees that Louis is looking at his small counter next to the sink. He swallows dry as he realizes that Louis is looking at the two lipsticks he has lined next to his moisturizer.  
  
“Are these yours?” Louis asks him, pointing at the small tubes.  
  
“Yes,” Harry answers after a second of hesitation. He braces himself for what Louis is going to say next. He expects a snarky comment because wearing nail polish is one thing, but lipstick is a whole other level. Rockstars and famous male celebrities wear polish, but lipstick is still a taboo for some stupid reason, fragile masculinity or something.  
  
“Shouldn’t keep them in the bathroom. Too much humidity, it’ll fuck them up,” Louis explains, looking at Harry with a comforting smile.  
  
Harry feels too emotional all of a sudden. Louis doesn’t think he’s weird for liking lipstick and nail polish. He doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal at all, which really isn’t, but it keeps Harry at ease around him.  
  
“Oh yeah? I didn’t know that.”  
  
“My sister is really into makeup and it rubs off on me a little,” he explains with a shrug.  
  
“Thanks for the tip, but I got these from the drugstore. Two for one pound, so they’re not really high quality to begin with.”

“Aren’t you gonna wear any of them tonight?”  
  
“Oh. I - I wasn’t planning to. Most people don’t like it when I wear them in public so I mostly put it on at home, for myself,” Harry says, running a hand though his hair. He likes the way his lips look when he has lipstick on, it makes him feel more confident in himself. It all dies down when he goes out in public and gets weird looks from people around him.  
  
He can’t shake the thought of his former best friend back at home, who’d tossed a napkin at his face and told him to clean up before somebody saw and called him a fag. At the time, Harry thought he was just being protective, that he didn’t want to see Harry get hurt by other people. Now Harry thinks he was just being a dick.  
  
“I don’t mind it at all. I mean, I mind a little because your lips are already sinful, I can only imagine how much more pathetic I’ll look next to you, but I think you should just embrace it,” he teases and Harry chuckles, feeling his cheeks growing warm. He steps in front of the mirror and chooses the lighter shade, the name long faded by now. Carefully, he applies it to his lips and smacks them together. It’s a very discreet color and Harry loves it. He turns to Louis.  
  
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry. Leave some sex appeal to the rest of us mortals, will you?” he says, exasperated and Harry giggles. The burning in his cheeks only grows with how Louis is making him feel. “Now let’s go, we haven’t got all night and there’s a closing time.”  
  
“Where are we going, anyway? That I won’t need shoes?” he asks as they make their way out of the bathroom.  
  
“You won’t need _your_ shoes,” Louis explains patiently.  
  
“Will I wear other people’s shoes?” Harry asks, a little turned off by the idea. He then realizes that Louis has stopped in the middle of his small living room and is looking around Harry's flat. Harry smiles to himself when he notices Louis seems to appreciate his unique style of decoration.  
  
“It’s a nice place you’ve got here, Styles. It looks straight out of a Pinterest board.”  
  
If only Louis knew how right he was.  
  
Louis is making his way to the door when he spots the vase with the cactus.  
  
“That’s Pete. Prickley Pete,” Harry tells him and Louis laughs. It’s a beautiful sound that fills the entire room, and sips into the small nooks and crannies of Harry's heart. He feels it entering his body almost physically, and the feeling he’s left with after making Louis laugh is exhilarating.  
  
“Of course he is, I wouldn’t expect anything less from the man who came up with _Harry’s Styles.”_  
  
They get into Louis' car and the Backstreet Boys are playing. It’s actually one of Harry's favorites, I Want it That Way. He turns to look at Louis, putting on his seatbelt.  
  
“Don’t even say it, Styles,” he warns him and Harry smiles.  
  
“Wasn’t gonna say anything.”  
  
“Good, because if you think you’re too good for cheesy pop music, then I don’t think we can be friends,” he says, turning on the heater. It’s really quite cold.  
  
“Not me, no. I _love_ cheesy pop music,” Harry says and means it. The car is starting to warm up and he feels comfortable in his seat. “Where are we going, Louis?”  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Tell me, do you have health insurance? I’m asking before hand in case I need to take you to the hospital.”  
  
“What?” Harry squeaks, “What kind of date could end up with me in the hospital?”  
  
“It probably won’t, can’t say for sure. With those longs legs of yours, anything is possible,” he says and smirks at Harry. “So this is an official date, huh?”  
  
Harry feels a wave of heat coming up his spine. “Only if you want it to be,” he tells him. He looks at Louis, who is not meeting his eye. Instead of answering, he lays on the horn and swerves so they don’t get hit by another car which completely ignored a “stop” sign.  
  
“Where did you get your license, bought it?” Louis asks, but only to himself, and Harry is relieved he’s not the type to start traffic fights. Even though he’s clearly annoyed, he forgets about it a few seconds later, humming to the song instead.  
  
London is beautiful at night. The street lights are bright and welcoming in the cold, and some shops have already decorated for Christmas. The sky is clear of clouds, which makes the air colder but at least dry.  
  
Nights like these remind Harry of home, of Robin and him lighting up a fire in his mom’s backyard and drinking hot apple cider with biscuits while they talk and snuggle in blankets, Harry playfully sitting between his mom and step dad in their patio sofa. Harry considers himself lucky to have a family he loves spending time with, and it hurts him more than he’ll admit that he won’t spend the holidays with them this year.  
  
His sister is going to her boyfriend’s for Christmas and Robin and Anne are going on a cruise for almost two weeks, vacationing along the Greek islands. He was invited to join them, of course. He even read the brochure with them and looked for online reviews of the places they would cruise by, but he had to politely refuse the invitation. His mom didn’t really have a honeymoon when they got married and this seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to spend some quality alone time in paradise.  
  
Harry is lost in his thoughts when Louis finally slows down and starts looking for a place to park. Harry glances around and their location hits him all at once. They’re in Somerset House.  
  
“Are we going to have a museum date?” he asks, excitedly. He doesn’t know where the shoe part fits in this, but he remembers visiting this incredible historical place during a school field trip and loving it.  
  
Louis' face falls a little as he parks. “Well, we can do that if you want, sure.”  
  
“This is not what you had planned?” Harry asks, confused.  
  
“Not exactly, but I guess we can do it, too,” Louis says and they step out of the car. The cold air makes Harry shiver and he puts his scarf closer to his face.  
  
He follows Louis around the corner where he can hear music and this weird sound Harry can’t quite identify, it’s sharp but not high pitched, and the pattern is too crazy to be coming from a machine. They circle around the squared U shaped building and Harry stops dead in his tracks when they reach the front of the building and Harry finally understands it.  
  
Ahead of them, the main square with its usual fountain is replaced with the most stunning ice skating ring Harry has ever seen. It takes up the whole front square, there are food and drink stands on both sides and a magnificently decorated Christmas tree right before the main entrance of the building.  
  
“Oh my God,” he mumbles, taking in the sight before him. The lights illuminating the opulent brick building are warm tones of yellow and orange, and the rink itself is lit up blue, turning the place nearly magical.  
  
“Pretty, right?” Louis says next to him and Harry nods. When he looks to his side, Louis is watching him take the place in. He looks pleased beyond himself with Harry's reaction.  
  
“Yeah,” Harry breathes out and Louis chuckles.  
  
“Come on, Harold. Let’s see if they have skates big enough for those Godzilla feet of yours,” Louis says and grabs him by the hand. He’s wearing gloves so Harry doesn’t actually touch his skin, but he feels small butterflies starting to fly around his stomach nonetheless.  
  
Louis leads them to buy tickets and insists on paying for Harry. They put on their skates and walk as penguins towards the entrance to the rink.  
  
“Okay, hum, Lou?” Harry calls him, stepping aside to let a family go before them.  
  
“Yeah?” Louis says, pulling his pants up a bit and adjusting the laces on his skates.  
  
“I can’t skate. Don’t know how to do it,” Harry confesses, feeling only a tad embarrassed by it.  
  
“Oh, me neither,” Louis replies with a bright smile.  
  
Harry’s laugh escapes him before he can stop himself. “What? You can’t skate either?”  
  
“ ’Course not, but doesn’t it look fun?” Louis asks him with a wink and steps into the rink, holding onto the railing as he takes a few tentative steps to the side to let Harry in.  
  
Harry puts his skate on the ice carefully, not letting go of the rail as he makes his way next to Louis. “Okay, you first,” he tells Louis with a cock of his head.  
  
“Fine, you coward,” Louis jokes and lets go of the rail. He flails his arms for balance and manages to stay up. He takes a few seconds to look at other people’s legs and copies their movements.  
  
Harry watches him with an arm stretched, ready to catch him if he falls. Harry’s smile only grows wider as Louis moves forward, slowly but surely.  
  
“You coming, Styles?” Louis looks behind his shoulder and Harry gets moving. He can skate on the ground, so he can probably skate on ice, he reasons. With a concentrated look on his face, Harry moves next to Louis.  
  
“We’re actually doing it,” he says, and loses his balance for just a fraction of a second. Louis' hand grabs his before it can go downhill. Harry squeezes it and holds on to it as they start skating together. “This is surprisingly fun,” he says, giggling as they get a little more confidence. They’re still at a snail’s pace, but neither of them has fallen yet, which is nothing but a huge success in Harry’s opinion.  
  
“Did you think I’d take you somewhere lousy?” Louis asks with a raise of an eyebrow, but Harry is beginning to learn his expressions and knows he’s not serious.  
  
“When you mentioned not wearing my own shoes, I kinda did, yeah,” Harry answers with a tsk.  
  
Louis moves to playfully push Harry on the shoulder but stops before he can touch him. Harry is startled anyway, his upper body moving backwards and his feet getting tangled. Before he realizes it, the frozen floor is coming up to meet him. He’s still holding Louis' hand when he tips backwards, his arms flailing like an overly excited penguin.  
  
The fall is hard, but Harry barely notices his elbow hitting the ground as Louis falls hard on his chest, half on top of him and half on the cold ice. “You okay?” Harry asks him, worriedly holding on to him, keeping him pressed against his torso. Louis makes a noise and Harry feels the first tendrils of panic shooting up his spine because Louis might actually be hurt. Then Louis turns to him and Harry sees he’s biting his lips trying not to laugh. It doesn’t work, and Louis laughs loudly and freely.  
  
Harry can’t help it, he’s laughing along even with his elbow starting to really hurt now and his jeans getting damp from the wet ice. “You twat, you tipped us over,” he says but he’s still smirking. And Louis is still half on top of him.  
  
“I did no such thing! I didn’t even touch you, you’re just a scared kitten,” Louis tells him and moves to stand up, except he can’t because Harry is still holding him, arms across his back. He doesn’t try again.  
  
Harry can smell Louis' minty breath, can feel his chest expanding with each breath against his own, can deepen his gaze in Louis' deep, blue eyes. Eyes that are looking down at Harry's lips. Louis' tongue darts out for a fraction of a second, leaving a shiny trail behind. His lips are parted just enough, and it’s too much for Harry to bear.  
  
He lifts his head up and presses his lips against Louis'. It’s a lot harder than he’d intended, and he can feel the inside of Louis' lip against his own, catching him off guard and open mouthed like that. Louis' lips are _so, so_ soft, and Harry doesn’t dare deepen the kiss any further because he’s breathless with just this small touch. Louis' cold nose touches Harry's cheek when Louis presses their lips together even more, taking in a deep breath through his nose. The butterflies in Harry's stomach multiply.  
  
Harry makes a small sound at the back of his throat when Louis pulls away. His lips have a faint pink tone from Harry's lipstick. He licks them and sits up. “I’m dizzy,” he says and gets up on all fours to stand up. He lets out a small chuckle when Harry does the same next to him and his hand slips, almost causing him to fall down again.  
  
They do a weird crawling motion to the side of the rink – from which they hadn’t ventured much away from in the first place – and use the railing to lift themselves back up. Harry is smiling, feeling hotter than he should have on an ice rink.  
  
“You fall too much around me, Styles,” Louis jokes, a little out of breath. He points to Harry's elbow. “Does it hurt too much?”  
  
“Not really,” Harry says honestly. He rubs at his arm and Louis does the same. “Are you hurt?”  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Nope, good as new. Come on, I’ll race you to the other side,” Louis says and scrambles away.  
  
Harry follows him with a smile, dodging people as they make their way pathetically slowly through the crowd. All Harry can think about is that he kissed Louis, he _kissed_ Louis, he kissed _Louis_. The night only gets better after that.  
  
They start to get the hang of it about thirty minutes in, and are able to skate around the whole rink for a solid hour after that. Harry falls one more time and, while Louis laughs uncontrollably, he still helps him up and brushes small ice chunks from Harry's coat.  
  
By the time they get too tired to move around much longer, Harry's cheeks are pink from the exercise and Louis' hair is a mess on top of his head, his previously perfect quiff slumping down on his forehead.  
  
They return their skates, put their shoes back on and get cups of steaming hot chocolate to warm them up now that they stopped moving. They both lean against the railing, watching other people whizz by in blurs, and also walk around the whole rink without letting go of the railings.  
  
“It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be,” Louis tells him, brushing his fringe out of his face. His whole body shivers for a second as it cools off and Harry steps closer to him.  
  
“Want my scarf?” he asks and Louis smirks.  
  
“Aren’t you a proper gentleman?” he teases and nods. Harry twists the scarf around his neck and takes it off, putting it around Louis'. He ties it very simply, and adjusts it so it’s close to his face, almost covering Louis' mouth. “Jesus, Harold. Are you even alive? Your hands are freezing. Here, I’ll trade the gloves for the scarf,” he says and Harry holds his cup for him as he takes them off.  
  
Harry puts them in his own hands, feeling the warmth of Louis' skin inside the fine leather. “A little small. It fits your siz-” he starts.  
  
“Don’t you dare, Styles. Unless you have a death wish,” Louis warns him with a raised finger and Harry closes his lips and zips them with his fingers.  
  
Harry turns his attention to the rink, but can see from the corner of his eye Louis pulling the scarf up to his nose and sniffing it. He doesn’t say anything, but smiles to himself and enjoys the warm feeling in his chest. The night feels almost surreal to him. Here he is, on a date with an amazing boy, where they laughed, had fun and _kissed_. Harry is still reeling from it. He’ll probably even dream about it.  
  
It all makes him feel less lonely, something he’s been feeling since the weekend when he was hanging out with Louis' friends, people he hopes to call his own friends as well soon. He’s ridiculously happy and doesn’t want the night to end.  
  
They stand next to the rink, watching people and sipping their beverages until the rink closes. It’s past eleven when Louis stops the car in front of Harry's house. “Do you wanna come in?” Harry asks. Louis thinks for a second and nods his head.  
  
Harry unlocks the shop and guides them inside. They make their way up the stairs silently, and when they step inside the flat, the air is heavy with something that makes Harry uncomfortable. Louis doesn’t take off his coat.  
  
“Sit, I’ll make us some tea,” Harry tells him, going to the kitchen and putting the kettle to boil.  
  
Louis sits on the very edge of the sofa, and when Harry catches his eye he doesn’t smile back. Harry swallows dry, not particularly enjoying the situation. He finishes the tea in heavy silence, and puts a small tray with the mugs, sugar and milk on the coffee table, sitting next to Louis on the sofa, but not allowing their legs to touch. “Something wrong?” he asks.  
  
Louis picks up his mug and sips it, no sugar or milk. He closes his eyes for a second and smiles sadly to Harry. “It’s perfect,” he tells him, but Harry doesn’t smile.  
  
“Did I do something to upset you?” Harry insists, twisting his hands in his lap. He’s only growing more and more anxious with Louis' demeanor. He doesn’t understand it, Louis seemed happy and to be having fun the whole evening. Harry can’t think of anything he could’ve done to wrong him in any way. Only, of course. “Is it because I kissed you?”  
  
Louis looks down. “Yes and no.”  
  
Harry feels his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, and opens his mouth to apologize when Louis stops him.  
  
“I mean, of course I enjoyed the kiss. But I don’t want you to kiss me anymore,” he says, finally meeting Harry's eyes. He looks just as hurt as Harry feels.  
  
“I won’t,” Harry says in a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Now he’s the one who can’t look Louis in the eye, feeling too embarrassed. Being rejected sucks, and Harry wants to sink into the sofa until he disappears into the cushions.  
  
“Please don’t be upset, I don’t want you upset,” Louis tells him and puts his hand on Harry's knee. “I really like you, Harry, but we can’t be together, okay?”  
  
“I won’t insist, Louis,” he says sharply. “I’m not daft, if you don’t wanna be with me I won’t push you,” he says, his shame turning into fragments of anger. Harry is not a jerk and he has his pride, he won’t do something like that.  
  
“I knew I shouldn’t have gone out with you, knew it’d upset you,” Louis mumbles, and that makes Harry look at him. “I don’t wanna lead you on, Harry. Tonight was a mistake.”  
  
Harry feels like an ice pick going through his chest. “Jesus, don’t need to be a dick about it,” Harry says and moves to get up, but Louis holds him in place.  
  
“I can see you’re angry, Harry. Please don’t be. You’re amazing, Harry, and I’m – Look, I’m too much, okay? I’m just too much. I have issues, like, big issues and I can’t be in a relationship. I’m sorry I let you think any other way. Will you forgive me, please?”  
  
Harry is silent, doesn’t know what to say. For a few seconds he only stares at Louis, trying to read his mind. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he eventually says and Louis smiles weakly.  
  
“Do you think you’ll want to still be around me? Because I still want to hang out, if you want,” Louis says, so soft and gentle that Harry’s anger fades away completely.  
  
And because Harry is a hopeless masochist, he hears himself say, “Yeah, sure. We can do that.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thanks for reading it so far! Next chapter will be in Louis' pov so we'll see a little bit more of how he experiences the world with his synesthesia.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! Thank you for reading so far! This chapter is in Louis' point of view so it's a little inside of what it's like for him to feel what other people feel.   
> Disclaimer: I don't have synesthesia so I wrote everything based on the research I did.

Louis is startled by his alarm at 7 o’clock, just like he is every other day of his life. He groans and turns it off, rushing to the bathroom before his bladder bursts.   
  
He’s still half asleep when he steps into the shower to wake himself up. He doesn’t linger in it for too long, wanting to leave his flat in under an hour. Dressed only in his underwear, Louis goes back to his bed. He sits on it cross legged with his erect back pressed against the metal headboard.   
  
He takes a few deep breaths, allowing his body to get comfortable, and then closes his eyes for his daily meditation session. He focuses on his breathing for several minutes, emptying his mind of thoughts that can stray his mind from his body too much.   
  
He starts focusing on his head, where he consciously feels the damp hair falling on his forehead. He feels the tension in his shoulders and relaxes them. Down his torso, he feels his empty stomach wanting something to eat and his side hurting a little bit from the way he awkwardly slept. He feels his thighs touching the soft sheets, the little hairs on his legs tickling the sole of his feet, tucked under his legs. He feels the weight of his body on the bed and the hard ridges of the headboard against his back.   
  
He then moves to his feelings and thought processes. He’s feeling a little anxious, the day ahead of him and his possible meeting with Harry making him take a very long, deep breath to ease his mind. His mind, as stubborn as always, keeps focused on Harry. He remembers how heartbroken Harry was when Louis told him they should be just friends.   
  
Louis knew, from the day he’d met Harry, that this boy would mean trouble for him. His green eyes and deep, slow voice that made beautiful, vibrant green flashes dance in front of Louis' eyes, and his eyes only. That gorgeous face and that childlike smile and laughter, which was like watching fireworks explode in Louis' mind, made his heart flutter in his chest and completely erased Louis' ability to control his own smiles, which were always permanent on his face.   
  
Louis was incredibly attracted to Harry, and when they shared that kiss Louis felt his whole body at peace. When he closed his eyes and felt the softness of Harry's lips against his own in that magical wave of pleasure he felt more intensely than other people could ever feel, it felt like Louis' entire life and all his decisions were meant to bring him to that point in time. Where he felt whole and protected.   
  
And of course he couldn’t trust these feelings. How could he, a person who could literally feel what other people felt, be sure that he was not simply mimicking Harry's feelings towards him? Harry had not been subtle about his attraction to Louis, that was a fact. When even Liam and Niall commented that Harry looked head over heels for him, things were more than just a little obvious.   
  
Louis opens his eyes, deeming his meditation done for the morning, and tries to focus on more practical aspects of the day, like breakfast. He gets dressed in jeans and a long sleeved grey shirt, and puts on his Vans. He goes to the kitchen and resists the temptation of a good fry up, something he’s decided to eat only on weekends.   
  
Trying to be a healthier person, he eats a banana, yogurt and two slices of toast, all washed down with coffee. He can’t be perfect. He scrolls through his Instagram feed while he eats and tries to not look at Harry's scarf, casually draped over the couch since a couple of nights ago, when he’d completely forgotten to give it back to Harry before he left. It’s neatly folded, almost as if Louis hadn’t spent the previous evening with it loosely wrapped around his neck.   
  
The problem is, Harry smells so good it should be illegal. He can’t be blamed for wanting that smell near him at all times. And it’s not like anyone would know about his dog-like sniffing. He’d meant to wash it, he really did. His mother is always saying that you should always return a borrowed item of clothing washed and a Tupperware container full, and Louis has always done just that. But he can’t bring himself to wash it and lose Harry's scent in it.   
  
He checks the time on his phone and puts it back in his pocket. He puts on his coat, grabs his backpack and puts Harry’s scarf in it. He’ll return it if he sees him today, which he really hopes he will. Louis locks his door behind him and heads for the tube.   
  
He’s texted Harry in the last couple of days, trying to act as casual as two people who went out on a perfect date and then decided they would just be friends can be. Actually, he was the one to decide that, but he _had_ to. He couldn’t lead Harry on when he wasn’t sure of his feelings. It would be difficult, yes, but Louis was a big boy and he could handle it.   
  
He could kick Harry out of his group, of course he could. Harry was barely in it, it would be easy to faze him out, but his friends were so few and Louis was selfish, okay? He liked Harry, liked his presence and the way he made him feel. Besides, Harry only has a crush for him, that’s all. It will go away with time, as Harry realizes what a fuck up he is and meets other people that are better than him.   
  
He gets off one stop before the actual one closest to the station because this way he can get to the park earlier and not risk not seeing Harry. He walks looking at the floor, as he always does, and tries to ignore as many people as he can before he sits down and gets his book out before he can start watching people.   
  
The park is gorgeous, the floor covered in leaves that float around when the breeze picks up a bit. He can hear a child laughing and it calls his attention. He looks at the little girl, no older than five, running after her dog, laughing and calling to him. Louis feels his chest immediately grow with happiness, bright orange strings coming out of her mouth along with the sound. The feeling is so powerful and strong that Louis laughs himself when the girl finally catches up with the dog and starts petting him. Louis feels the dog’s soft fur on the tips of his fingers and the dampness of its tongue when he licks the girls’ face. Happiness in its most raw, innocent and powerful force washes over him and he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling.   
  
Adults don’t feel happiness like this, he knows, not with this intensity. It’s lost at around the teenage years, when it’s replaced with all the fears and insecurities that growing up entails.   
  
The little girl’s cries of happiness turn into real crying, and Louis looks before he gets a chance to stop himself. She’s fallen down and he can see her hand is scraped from a branch on the floor. He catches a glimpse of the redness on her palm and immediately feels his own burning exactly where she was hurt. It’s barely a scratch, but the little girl goes from euphoria to surprise pain very quickly, and Louis is reeling from it, feeling it all along with her. Her mother immediately goes to her, and kisses the red line on her hand. Louis feels it, the soothing touch only a mother can truly offer, and misses his own so much it hurts. He can’t wait to go back home for Christmas and see her again.   
  
A feeling of comfort starts to form in his chest when the mother starts talking softly to the girl. He can’t make out the words she’s saying, but he feels the calming effect it has on the little girl and his heart starts to come back to its normal rate.   
  
It only lasts for a second before his gaze catches a man running on the path right before him, and Louis starts breathing just as fast as he is and feels his heart pounding, a sharp pain going up his calves as the man grimaces with the incline.   
  
Right, back to his book. He keeps glancing upwards to make sure he doesn’t miss Harry if he comes by, but he doesn’t pay attention to anybody when he looks, not wanting to get caught up in their feelings.   
  
Harry is right on time when he comes biking up the path, and Louis puts his book to his side and watches him slow down and climb off from the bike. He’s not meeting Louis' eyes and Louis feels how nervous he is, how indecisive.   
  
“Hey,” Louis tells him when Harry is close enough to hear him. It makes Harry look up and Louis gives him a reassuring smile.   
  
“Hey,” he replies back and Louis sees green flecks coming out of his mouth, disappearing into the brisk air of the morning.   
  
Louis pats the bench next to him in an invitation for Harry to sit. He rests his bike against the back of the bench and sits. Harry is _so_ fit that in spite of the biking his breathing is almost normal.   
  
“I forgot to bring you your gloves,” is the first thing Harry tells him.   
  
Louis smiles. “It’s fine, I have other pairs. I do have your scarf, though,” he says and reaches into the backpack. He fetches it and gives it to Harry, who smiles shyly at him.   
  
“Could you keep it for a little longer? I don’t have anything to carry it in and I don’t wanna wear it and get it all sweaty.”  
  
“I think you might wanna wash it anyway, I didn’t get a chance to do it after I wore it,” Louis explains, but puts the scarf back in his backpack.  
  
“I don’t mind it,” Harry tells him and Louis feels the little bit of embarrassment Harry feels when he says it.   
  
So far, Louis has kept all his feelings in check. He resists the urge to swipe the phantom hair that’s falling on his face as little strands get loose from Harry's bun. Harry brushes them back with his hand and the feeling is gone from Louis' face. He feels the softness of Harry's hair between his fingers instead, and wishes he could feel them for real.   
  
The air is thick between them, and he feels how uneasy Harry is, and it matches what he thinks he’s truly feeling. He gathers up the courage to speak.  
  
“Liam and Niall are coming over tonight, we’re having a game night. Would you like to join us?” he says. He’s been thinking about it and he’s decided it’s best to see Harry only when they’re in a group for now. Anything that could resemble a date is forbidden territory for him, at least until he knows whatever feelings Harry has for him are gone.   
  
And he feels Harry's reluctance, knows he’s gonna say no. “Harry, I’m sorry I was such a jerk the other day. I understand if you don’t wanna be around me anymore.”  
  
Harry looks panicked for a second, as if the idea of not being around Louis is really not what he wants, and Louis feels relieved.  
  
“I’ll come, sure. Text me the address later, yeah?” Harry says and smiles. God, what is Louis doing? His hand reaches for his backpack, where the small wrapped gift sits, right next to Harry's scarf. He’s bought it the day before and didn’t take it out of his backpack since.  
  
“Hey, Harry? I got you something,” he says and reaches in.   
  
“You got me something? As in a present?” he asks and his face lights up when he sees the small bag in Louis' hand. Louis feels the happiness creeping up on Harry and feels relieved.   
  
“To make up for my lousy behavior,” he says and hands Harry his gift.   
  
“You didn’t have to. We had a misunderstanding about the purpose of our outing,” Harry says, and it hurts Louis just a little that he isn’t using the word ‘date’ anymore. He watches Harry's reactions as he undoes the pretty bow the lady at the store had made, feels the softness of it under Harry's hand. Harry’s eyes widen when he pulls out the black tube of M.A.C lipstick Louis has gotten him.

  
“My sister said this is a good brand,” he starts, and watches as Harry admires the pretty packaging, and reads the label under it that says the color’s name is “retro” and smiles. He opens it up and slides the lipstick out.   
  
“It feels so much heavier than the ones I have,” he tells Louis, and his lips part in surprise when he uncaps it and twists the bottom. It’s a beautiful peachy-pink brown that Louis thinks will go well with Harry's skin tone, and he’s only spent 45 minutes to choose it. “This is so pretty,” he tells Louis.   
  
“You think so?” Louis asks, even if he can feel how honest Harry's being.   
  
“Of course, look at it,” Harry can’t seem to stop staring at the lipstick, turning it in his hand as if it’s something precious. “Thank you so much, Lou.”  
  
Louis' heart skips a beat at the fond use of his name and the joy he’s feeling through Harry. “I’m happy you liked it,” he tells him and Harry finally closes it shut. “Wait, you’re not gonna try it on?”   
  
“Oh, not right now. Don’t have a mirror,” he tells Louis apologetically, and puts it back in the package.   
  
“I can-” Louis starts and stops himself, closing his mouth so fast his teeth click _. I can put it on for you_ , Louis wants to say _. I can put it on and then you can kiss me again_.   
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Louis says with a shake of his head. He needs to reassess his feelings because he’s clearly mirroring Harry's desire to kiss him. Louis doesn’t fall this fast for people, so it’s only logical he’s only feeling it because Harry does. He’s perfectly aware of how narcissistic and smug he sounds, but it’s the truth and he’s going to stick with it.   
  
“Do you think - Do you think Liam and Niall would mind if I wore it tonight?” Harry asks tentatively.   
  
Louis can’t help but smile. “Not at all, I’m sure.”  
  
Louis manages to avoid looking at people all the way to the station, where he greets the doorman and uses his card to unlock the way to the elevators. He feels like his feet are not touching the ground, that he’s floating just a couple of centimeters above it. It’s still a leftover feeling from when he was with Harry, and he assures himself that it’s just his own brain exacerbating things.   
  
The station is actually comprised of two floors of the building, and Louis goes directly to the one with the studio he works in. He walks past co-workers, greeting them with a smile but not stopping to chat with anyone until he reaches the studio Liam is working in. He checks the clock and sees he has seven minutes before Liam is on air with his show.   
  
“Morning, Payno,” he tells him and plops himself on the chair next to Liam, who already has his headphones on and the topics he’s going to discuss in a very organized sheet of paper. His co-host, Benny, is the absolute opposite of him. The fact that it’s now six minutes to start and he’s not even in the studio yet is just another aspect of his strange behavior, but it’s exactly this discrepancy that works so well for them. The segment is an absolute hit.   
  
“Morning, Tommo. You look happy today,” he notes, writing down some last, few-minutes notes to his paper. The calming, strong red tones coming from Liam’s voice float around Louis' vision.   
  
“Harry is coming over tonight,” Louis tells him and that catches Liam’s attention.   
  
“He is? I thought he was upset.”  
  
“He still is, a little bit. But he’s happy to come as well.”  
  
“If you say so, I believe you,” Liam tells him and Louis can tell he’s feeling a little uncertain about the whole thing.  
  
Liam is not entirely convinced Louis is as detached from feeling attracted to Harry as he thinks he is. Louis knows what it looks like, that he’s all heart eyes around Harry, but Liam needs to understand that he’s only mirroring Harry, that he doesn’t actually feel like that.   
  
“I’ll leave you to it. See you at seven thirty?” Louis asks and gets up.   
  
“If I’m picking Niall, see you at seven forty five,” Liam tells him and Louis chuckles. He feels that Liam’s calming and reassuring presence sooths his soul in a way nobody else can quite do.   
  
He goes to his wonderfully empty studio and gets to work. He writes the day’s text for the radio’s website and uploads it. He logs into the _The Flow_ Instagram and posts a picture of his table. He’s realized that people love seeing all the buttons and switches and such, so he posts a snap to the station’s snapchat and opens twitter a few minutes before he’s supposed to be on air. He tweets people that they can start calling and asking for songs, puts on his headphones and sits himself comfortably on the chair, a huge bottle of water next to him. His beloved software, which allows him to search the whole system for the songs people ask in a matter of seconds is already open and ready for him. He listens to Liam say goodbye and cut to the break, when they advertise their sponsors and promote prizes and shows the station has.   
  
He sees the flashing red light that he has a caller on the line and thanks the heavens he’s already started with one. It usually takes the first song for people to start calling. He plays the intro to his show and slides the button for his microphone on the table.   
  
“Good afternoon, my beautiful people. This is Tommo on Demand and we’ll be spending the afternoon together. Send me your requests and I’ll be happy to play them. Don’t be shy, we’re all friends here. Who am I talking to?”  
  
_“Hi,”_ a teenage voice says, and Louis can’t quite tell if it’s a boy or a girl. All he knows is that he sees brown tones coming from their voice, and smiles. It’s a nice voice.   
  
“Hello, love. What’s your name?” he asks calmly. Some people feel nervous about calling the radio, and he can relate to them. He was a nervous wreck when he started, a couple of years ago.   
  
The beauty of working in the radio is that he’s not actually seeing the people he’s talking to, which means he doesn’t feel what they’re feeling all the time. He gets clues from their pitch and tone, but in this aspect he’s just like everyone else. His brain doesn’t get mixed up with whose body is whose, and doesn’t send his body signals for what to feel based on what it sees. Not to mention the beautiful spectacle that is listening and _seeing_ music all day.   
  
_“I’m Linda.”  
_  
“Why hello Linda, how are you today?” he asks, as enthusiastically as he can.   
  
_“I’m good, thanks. And you?”  
_  
“Fine and dandy. What do you want to listen to today, darling?”  
  
_“Can you play the Foo Fighters?” she says shyly.  
_  
Louis types in their name and a list of songs pop up, all without missing a beat. “I’d be more than happy to. Which song?”  
  
_“Oh, any song.”  
_  
“Any song it is,” Louis says and clicks on his favorite, _Best of You_. He lowers the volume on his mic and opens twitter. He mentions the Foo Fighters’ official twitter when he tweets that it’s their first song of the day, types in his usual hashtags to attract people to the station, and lets it play in the background.   
  
It’s two hours in when Harry calls. It catches Louis completely off guard, just like it did the first time. Louis is actually munching on a pack of cookies when the song finishes. He swallows his bite, turns on his mic up and speaks.   
  
“That was Blink 182, All the Small Things. Who do we have next?”  
  
_“Hi, it’s Harry.”  
  
_ Louis breaks into a smile. “Young Harold, what an honor.”  
  
Harry chuckles at the other end of the line. “ _Hi, Lou.”_   
  
“Who is Lou? This is Tommo,” Louis corrects him. He doesn’t think the listeners know his actual name. Not that he minds, but it’s weird.   
_  
“Sorry, sorry. Tommo_ ,” he says and Louis can hear the smile in his voice. He closes his eyes so he can properly appreciate the beautiful green of Harry's voice.   
  
“What song should I play you?”  
  
_“Hum, I want to listen to Rhiannon, by Fleetwood Mac.”  
_  
“Harold, Harold, Harold. You really want to be the person that asks for the song that I’ll choose for my song of the day, don’t you?” he teases while he gets the song ready.   
  
“ _You got me_ ,” Harry plays along.   
  
“Here goes Fleetwood Mac,” Louis says and starts the song. He lowers the microphone but keeps Harry on the line. He should be keeping the social media active, it’s around this time he posts on Facebook, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t drop everything to talk to Harry for a few minutes.   
  
“Harry, you called.”  
  
“I did. Shouldn’t I?” he asks and Louis hears the alarm in his voice.   
  
“No no, of course you should. I didn’t think you would, that’s all. After the way I treated you.”  
  
“You bought my affection back with the lipstick, so,” Harry teases and Louis closes his eyes again. This is normal banter between them. “What time should I come tonight?”  
  
Louis takes a second to reply. He wants to slowly introduce Harry to his world, explain him a few things. “Around seven?” he suggests.   
  
“I’ll be there. What should I bring?”  
  
“Oh, you don’t have to bring anything, we’ll probably order something to eat and I have enough drinks for all of us. Niall will probably bring something with alcohol in it, so we’re set.”  
  
“But the polite thing to do is to bring something when you go to a person’s house for the first time,” Harry argues.   
  
Louis is so endeared by him he could squeeze him. He can almost see Harry pouting. “Bring some crisps then, yeah? Whatever is easiest for you. I have to go, the song is almost up.”  
  
“Bye, Lou. Thanks for playing my song,” he says and Louis spends the rest of the day with a smile on his face.   
  
He’s feeling anxious by six forty five and he’s not sure what to wear. It’s ridiculous, he doesn’t bother putting on more than sweats and an old t-shirt when Liam and Niall come along, and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s trying too hard.   
  
When Harry rings the bell to his flat, Louis welcomes him in jeans and a t-shirt. He’s barefoot, and he hopes this conveys the message that this is how he usually hangs around at the house. He’s faced with a jaw-dropping gorgeous Harry, who is indeed wearing the lipstick Louis gave him. He looks stupidly beautiful with it and Louis swallows dry.   
  
“Hi, Lou,” Harry says and Louis snaps out of his trance, stepping aside so Harry can come in.   
  
“Hey, come on in,” he tells him, and is not surprised when Harry stops dead in his tracks, right at the threshold.   
  
Louis knows his place can be a lot to take in for the first time. For starters, it’s tiny. Big enough for one person, if you don’t have much junk, which he doesn’t. But he has paintings on every wall, including three in the bathroom alone.   
  
“Holy shit,” Harry says, absent mindedly taking his boots off and stepping slowly into Louis' flat. He stares at the paintings, slack jawed. They’re all abstracts, and every inch of the canvases are covered in different hues of all colors imaginable.   
  
“It’s a lot, I know,” Louis says, and accepts Harry's coat, hanging it by the door.   
  
Harry walks up to the one closest to him. It’s one of the brightest in the room, full of oranges and yellows and very strong fuchsia lines across the middle. He reads the small letters at the bottom. _Queen – Don’t Stop Me Now. Louis/2016._   
  
“No way, did you paint this?” he turns to Louis, so impressed Louis manages to feel proud next to the overwhelming feeling of surprise he’s getting from Harry.   
  
“I did, a while ago. It’s what I see when I listen to this song,” he explains and feels Harry's confusion. “Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”  
  
Harry is still looking around when Louis comes back with two glasses of coke for them. He notices a package next to Harry on the couch, but says nothing about it. “Here,” he offers Harry, who comes to sit next to him.   
  
“Did you paint all of these?” he asks, and Louis nods.   
  
“Do you know what synesthesia is?” he asks, and Harry thinks a little before answering.   
  
“It’s when people see colors in letters, right?”  
  
“That’s one kind, yeah,” Louis says with a smile and looks away when Harry sips his coke. “Synesthesia is basically when one sense triggers another, it’s automatic and involuntary. I don’t see colors in letters, but I see colors in sounds.”  
  
“Really?” Harry asks, and Louis feels the wonder of Harry hearing about it for the first time.   
  
“Yeah, it’s called chromesthesia. Some people can taste colors, some see colors in letters, there’s all kinds. I see colors with sounds, and this is how I see these songs,” he gestures around the room.  
  
“Does it happen to other sounds, too?” Harry is so curious, bless him.   
  
“It happens with all sorts of sounds, voices mostly.”  
  
“What color do I sound like?” Harry asks, and he’s as excited as a puppy.   
  
Louis smiles when he says it. “A bright, vibrant grass-green.”  
  
“Cool,” Harry says and Louis chuckles. “What color do you sound like?”  
  
“Blue, but I hardly see it. It’s like your nose, you only notice it when you pay attention to it.”  
  
“That sounds so cool, Lou,” Harry tells him and Louis can’t tell him the rest. Not right now, when he’s acting normally and happily around him like that. Once he tells him about his mirror-touch synesthesia, it’s all downhill from there. Once Harry knows Louis can feel what everyone else around him is feeling, when his brain doesn’t know where his body ends and the others start, he might be too freaked out to be around.  
  
“It kind of is, yeah,” he agrees.  
  
“It must be so fun to work on the radio when you’re like this,” Harry comments and Louis can’t agree more. “Oh, I brought this,” Harry says and picks up the package in his hands. In it Louis finds his gloves, a couple of bags of crisps and a lovely, velvety navy blue scarf.   
  
“Harry, this is gorgeous,” Louis tells him, admiring the fabric in his hand. “This is way beyond bringing a house gift,” he says and wraps it around his neck. It feels soft against his skin and Louis folds it carefully when he takes it off.   
  
Harry is walking around Louis' flat, admiring painting by painting, when Liam and Niall arrive. Liam has the game Scotland Yard under his arm and Niall two boxes of pizza and a six pack.   
  
“We bring food and merriness,” Niall announces, setting the food on the table before hugging Harry and Louis.   
  
Louis holds on to them for a few seconds. Louis _loves_ hugs. He can not only feel himself hugging the other person, he also feels him hugging himself. It feels like a repeated image on a television, going over and over in a tight spiral until it’s too small, but still infinite. He longs to hold Harry tightly so bad.   
  
They make casual conversation for a few minutes while they adjust themselves around the table and drinks are served. Looking at their interactions, it feels like Harry has been friends with them for a much longer time than a couple of weeks.   
  
“I’m starving,” Harry announces when the pizza boxes are open and the wonderful smell of pepperoni, cheese and garlic fills the small kitchen. He’s the first one to grab a slice and Louis looks away. He eats his slice looking down, not taking his eyes from the plate at any moment.   
  
He absolutely hates seeing people eat because he can feel the chewed up food in his mouth, can taste it going down his throat. It’s horribly upsetting and has made him sick on more than one occasion, when his own eating felt conflicted to the people around him. It’s especially worse when people are eating different foods. Certain combinations should not be tasted.  
  
Nobody says a thing that he’s not looking around, and when he takes his last bite he looks up. Harry is looking intently at him, and Louis gives him a small smile, hoping to reassure him when he feels Harry is worried.   
  
Liam and Niall know to eat quickly and not drag it any further than necessary, but Harry is unaware and stops to join the conversation so often that he’s the last one to finish. He still has two slices on his plate – four for each of them – when Louis feels ready to throw himself out the window. Harry's fork and knife are down on his plate and he has his elbows on the table, hands crossed in front of his face. His brow is a little furrowed as he listens intently to whatever Liam is telling him, completely engrossed in the conversation. He looks stunning, his hair framing his face perfectly and the white silk shirt he’s wearing hugging his shoulders perfectly. Louis still wants to shove pizza down his face so he can finally have peace.   
  
“Hey, what do you say we clear the table and start playing?” Niall says, clapping his hands. Then he pretends to look at Harry's plate for the first time. “Oh mate, sorry. Didn’t see you weren’t done yet.”  
  
God bless Niall.   
  
Harry looks down and grabs his fork. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize everyone else was done,” he says and quickly forks down the last of his pizza. Louis can’t bring himself to look, but he hears Harry put the cutlery down and breathes a sigh of relief when Harry starts piling up the plates to bring to the kitchen.   
  
“I’ll finish these in just a second,” he says as Louis brings the last of the plates.   
  
“Nonsense, I’ll do these tomorrow,” Louis scoffs and runs a little bit of water to get most of the grease out.   
  
“It’s no trouble,” Harry insists.   
  
“You’re my guest, Harold. You’re not doing the dishes. Jesus, you’re so polite,” he fake mocks him.   
  
“Can you say that again so I can record it and send it to my mom?” Harry says with a grin. Louis rolls his eyes and gets more soda from the fridge, refilling everyone’s cup. He deals better with drinks, much easier to look away quickly when someone takes a sip.   
  
They explain the game to Harry. In it you play Sherlock Holmes who has different cases to solve. You move on the board to different places, each with a clue to solve the case. They form groups, and Niall insists Harry and Louis form a pair because he and Harry are the smart ones and it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of them, according to him.  
  
One hour later and neither pair is even close to solving the mystery, which involves a dead racing horse and a dead trainer.   
  
“What the fuck does the paint on the floor has to do with any of this? If we already know it’s not the house painter who did it?” Harry whispers into Louis' ear, curling his hand around it so the others can’t read his lips.  
  
Louis focuses on the paper with the notes in front of them, even though every hair in his body is standing up. Harry's hot breath so close to his ear for the past hour is making him feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. Harry is too engrossed in the game, reading the case card over and over again, barely aware of the fact this close proximity is driving Louis crazy.   
  
Louis can smell him, can feel their shoulders rubbing together when they look at the sheet of paper, and he’s going to embarrass himself if Harry keeps getting this close to him.   
  
The worst part is, Harry isn’t feeling any of this, Louis is sure. He’s frustrated and having fun at the same time, but he’s not particularly attracted to Louis while they’re playing. He’s too focused on the game, and Louis should be thankful for that, but he feels alone in his feelings for Harry and it hurts. A taste of his own medicine, he thinks to himself.   
  
Half an hour later and both pairs give up, relenting to the case solution to finally understand it.  
  
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Louis says, exasperated when they learn the horses had been switched and their horsehair painted different colors. Harry slouches in his chair with the softest pout on his lips. The lipstick has been rubbed off from him eating and drinking, but his lips look sinful nonetheless.   
  
It’s become too late to start a new game, so they move to the living room with the single couch, Harry and Liam on it and Louis and Niall on the floor, all with a bottle of beer in hand. There’s soft music playing in the background and it’s raining quite heavily. Louis glances at Harry and sees he looks happy and relaxed, and smiles to himself.   
  
“Wanna play truth or dare?” Niall suggests.  
  
“No no no no, last time I ended up in only my socks and a towel for a cape,” Liam interjects quickly.   
  
“No nudity this time, I promise,” Niall says while they all laugh.   
  
Louis looks at Harry. “Are you up for it, Harold?”  
  
“I’m up for it, Louis,” he says with mirth in his smile.   
  
“I’ll start. Harry, truth or dare?” Niall asks him without missing a beat.   
  
“Dare,” Harry challenges him with a raise of his brow.   
  
“Nooo,” Louis and Liam say in unison.   
  
“I dare you to…” Niall thinks for a few seconds. “Run down the street singing Let it Go from Frozen because I _know_ you know the lyrics to this song.”  
  
“Fuck no, it’s raining!” Harry tells him indignantly, pointing at the window and frowning. “This is truth or dare, not truth and catch pneumonia and die.”  
  
They all laugh at Harry's reaction and Niall concedes.   
  
“Alright, just open the window and bellow it out, yeah?”  
  
“Now _that_ I can do,” Harry says and calmly walks to the window. He opens it and starts singing at the top of his lungs while they all laugh, Liam actually falling to the floor at how funny the whole thing is. In spite of their laughing, Harry does have a good voice, even if he breaks down laughing for most of it. When he’s about to start the second verse Niall stops him.   
  
“It’s enough, it’s enough. My ears will bleed.”  
  
Harry closes the window and comes back to the couch, proudly wiping at his damp face. Louis can feel how happy he is to be doing this, and wonders if Harry has many friends outside this little group of theirs.   
  
“Now, Liam…” Harry starts and Liam clears his throat, all eyes on him. “Truth or dare?”   
  
“Truth,” Liam says and Louis throws a pillow at him.   
  
“You’re so boring,” Louis says, but waits to see what Harry is going to ask him.   
  
“What is the strangest place you’ve peed?” he asks in all seriousness and they all laugh at the ridiculous question.   
  
Liam seems relieved it’s not a terrible one, and thinks for a few moments. “I think it was… I think it was my cousin’s herb garden? We were about eight and we fought and I was mad at her, so I went outside and peed on her herbs.”  
  
Louis thinks he’s going to die from lack of oxygen, he’s laughing so much. The idea that Liam, does everything by the book Liam, peed as a revenge act is leaving him in stitches.   
  
When it’s Liam’s turn, he chooses Louis, who obviously chooses dare.   
  
“Can I bring you into this one, Harry?” he asks and Louis panics. He’s not going to ask Louis to kiss Harry, is he? Harry looks scared for the briefest of moments before agreeing. “Change shirts with Harry for the rest of the night.”  
  
Louis' eyes widen when Harry starts unbuttoning his shirt right then and there. He feels embarrassed even before he sees the pink tint on Harry's cheeks as he slides it off his shoulders.  
  
“Cool tattoos, man,” Niall tells him, and Harry’s cheeks grow from pink to red.   
  
“Thanks,” he says and hands Louis his shirt. It takes a moment for Louis to grab it because Harry is proper fit, with a hint of abs and a damn V line on his hips. What does Louis in is the pudge on Harry's hips. Louis takes off his t-shirt and takes his time buttoning Harry's shirt, allowing his face to go back to its normal color.   
  
The shirt feels warm from Harry and smells just like his scarf did. Oh God.   
  
Next, Louis dares Niall to speak anything until his next turn in baby talk. Niall is great at it, and they laugh every time he opens his mouth. The smile dies on Harry's lips when he chooses truth and Niall asks him how many people he’s slept with.   
  
“I thought we’d need to get a little more drunk for that,” Harry tells him.  
  
“No, Hawwy, answer it,” he says and Louis can’t help but laugh, as interested as he is to hear Harry's answer.   
  
“Two,” Harry says, and takes a sip of his beer. Louis can feel how uncomfortable he is, and tries to diffuse it.  
  
“Two more than Niall, then,” he says jokingly and Niall flickers his forehead.   
  
“Truth or dare, Louis,” Harry tells him, and Louis looks him straight in the eye when he says “dare”.  
  
Harry smirks. “You have to wear Liam’s socks as gloves until your next time.”  
  
Louis wants to slap him. “You bastard,” he says, and Liam is already taking his socks off. Louis is not really bothered by it, Liam is always wearing clean socks and he doesn’t have smelly feet as far as he knows. But he still won’t touch anything and will wash his hands as soon as he takes them off.   
  
Liam is dared to organize everything in Louis' pantry in alphabetical order, Harry confesses he sleeps naked – a fact that lingers in Louis' mind longer than it should – Niall has to “like” the first post that loads in his Facebook feed, which coincides with his nephew’s birthday so it’s not really a fun dare.   
  
Louis has to pretend he’s a cat and knead on Liam’s stomach, Liam has to let all three of them draw on his arms for a minute, Harry has to do fifteen jumping jacks – Louis mentally patted himself on the shoulder for that one – and Louis confesses he’s never cheated on anyone.   
  
Somehow during the evening the TV got turned on, and a movie is playing in the background while Niall has to walk on all fours and lick Louis' wall like a dog. Louis is not paying attention to the movie. He’s very selective about what he watches. Feeling what the characters are feeling can be quite an emotional rollercoaster for him. Needless to say, horror movies are out of the question for him.   
  
It’s past eleven when Liam announces he needs to go home and Niall is going to take up his offer on a ride.   
  
“I think I’ll go as well,” Harry says, stretching on the couch. He’s been the most focused on the movie as the game died down.  
  
“You can finish the movie, if you want,” Louis tells him.   
  
“Yeah mate, don’t feel like you have to leave just because we are,” Niall tells him and winks at Louis when Harry's not looking. Louis gives him the finger.   
  
“If Louis doesn’t mind,” he says and Louis shakes his head.   
  
“Not at all, you can stay as long as you want,” he assures him, and Harry stands up to hug Liam and Niall goodbye.   
  
When they leave, they go back to the couch and Harry holds a pillow as he sits back down. His arms look bulged in Louis' t-shirt, a little tight on him. Louis swallows dry. “What are we watching?”

“The Notebook. I’ve seen it a million times, but it’s my favorite,” Harry says, and Louis thinks he’s safe enough with a romance. “It’s only got about twenty minutes left, then I’ll be out of your hair.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid, you’re not a bother,” Louis assures him and listens as Harry explains what’s happened in the movie so far. Louis has to turn the volume up because the storm is somehow getting even worse and the thundering is making it difficult to make out what they’re saying.   
  
He texts Liam, telling him to send him a message when he gets Niall and himself home safe, and is relieved when he gets one about fifteen minutes later.   
  
“Are they home okay?” Harry asks him, and Louis thinks it’s adorable how worried he looks as well.   
  
“Yeah, he just dropped Niall of and he’s safe at home.”  
  
“Oh, they don’t live together?” Harry asks, and it takes a second for Louis to realize what he means.   
  
“Liam and Niall are not a couple,” he says between chuckles. “Niall doesn’t swing our way,” he adds.   
  
“I just thought that, I don’t know…” Harry tries to explain but Louis shushes him.   
  
“I get it, they’re very close,” he says and is still smiling to himself when the movie ends and Harry gets up.   
  
“That’s my cue to leave,” he says. “Let me just get an Uber.”  
  
“Are you kidding? In this weather? You’re not leaving,” Louis tells him.   
  
“It’s almost midnight, Louis. God knows when this storm is going to pass, and we both have work tomorrow,” he reasons.   
  
Louis takes a deep breath. “You can crash here if you want.”  
  
He sees the doubt in Harry's face, feels his unease. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”  
  
“I’ll take the couch and you can take the bed. Just give me five minutes to change the sheets and-”  
  
“No, Louis. I mean, I’ll stay, but I’ll take the couch,” Harry says, breathing heavily. There’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips and Louis feels him grow more comfortable with the idea.   
  
“If that’s the only way you’ll stay…”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“There are new toothbrushes in the cabinet under the sink bathroom,” Louis tells him with a smile. He goes to his room and comes back with a pair of sweat pants.  
  
“I think these will fit,” Louis tells him. They’re a size too big for him, and Harry goes back into the bathroom to change. While Harry gets ready for bed Louis puts a sheet over the couch, an extra pillow and two blankets. He gets his old phone charger and plugs it in the socket right next to the couch and locks the door and windows up.   
  
He hears the toilet flush and the faucet run for a couple of minutes. Harry emerges with his fringe slightly damp and Louis' t-shirt folded in his hands. The sweats fit him perfectly, and Louis is definitely not staring at his happy trail while Harry is busy removing his socks.   
  
“You can charge your phone there,” Louis tells him, pointing at the charger on the arm of the couch.  
  
“Thank you so much, Lou,” Harry tells him, sitting on the couch and fluffing the pillow. “I’ll be out first thing in the morning.”  
  
“Don’t be silly. Good night, Harry.”  
  
“Good night, Lou.”  
  
Louis slips into the bathroom himself to pee and brush his teeth. The lights in the living room are off and the sound of the rain doesn’t let him know if Harry is asleep yet or not. He goes to his room and closes the door.   
  
He changes from his jeans into pajama pants and only then realizes he’s still wearing Harry's fancy silk white shirt. He starts to unbutton it but thinks twice of it. He takes the collar and brings it to his face. That inebriating smell fills his senses and he decides to keep it on. What Harry doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He’ll put it in the wash before Harry notices he’s slept in it and got it wrinkled.   
  
He turns off the lights and lets the sound of rain lull him to sleep. Harry sleeping in the next room makes falling asleep a challenge.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're enjoying the story! I'm posting two chapters today because I feel like Louis' synesthesia is more clearly explained throughout both of them.  
> Enjoy your reading!

Louis almost has a heart attack the next morning. His alarm wakes him up and he turns it off with a grunt. He stretches, letting his arms fall to his sides while he sighs. He feels so sleepy after a terrible night of sleep. He makes his way to his bathroom with his eyes half shut and doesn’t even close the door after him when he starts peeing. He lives alone after all.  
  
He flushes and washes his hands. Louis always needs a couple of minutes to truly wake up. He looks at himself in the mirror and decides that cold water might be the only thing that could help today so he leans down to splash his face before he rinses the tired skin thoroughly with a little warmer water. He suddenly hears a loud clang from the kitchen, making an ugly brown dance in his vision. He freezes, eyes open wide as his heart starts thundering in his chest. There’s someone in his flat. There’s someone in his flat and he’s alone and his phone is in his bedroom, and he’s going to get murdered. He’s too young to be murdered, he thinks in the fraction of a second it takes him to remember: _Harry_ is in his flat.  
  
Surprisingly, the realization does little to calm him down. His heart is still hammering, sweat is still gathering at his temples and he feels a little sick to his stomach. Oh God, Harry stayed the night. Louis dries his face and brushes his teeth quickly, scrubbing harshly at his tongue because God forbid he goes to speak with Harry with morning breath. He runs wet fingers through his hair before combing it, trying to look at least presentable.  
  
He walks into the kitchen to find Harry with his back to him. He’s standing by the sink, putting the last of the plates on the drying rack. He’s still shirtless, still barefoot, and his sweats – Louis' sweats – hang low on his waist.  
  
He has no tattoos on his back, and his shoulders are so broad and his back so muscular Louis has to bite his lips not to whimper. He has his hair up in a bun, using a pen to keep it in place. Louis' mom does that, using anything at hand to keep her hair up when it bothers her. Louis loves how it unfolds and twists when she lets it down, and wants to pull at Harry's hair until it does the same.  
  
He must make some kind of noise because Harry turns to him. “Good morning,” he says, and his voice is rough from sleep. The brightest, most beautiful shade of dark, mossy green tendrils flow from his mouth and disappear around his head.  
  
“Hi, good morning. You didn’t have to do that,” Louis gestures at the clean kitchen.  
  
“Least I could do as a guest. Uninvited guest, I might add,” he says and leans against the counter, crossing his arms on his chest. It makes his biceps bulge and Louis is definitely not staring.  
  
“What would you like for breakfast?” Louis asks, shaking up the fog inside his brain.  
  
“Oh, I’ll grab something to eat on my way out. I was just waiting for you to wake up before I left.”  
  
“Nonsense, I can’t have you staying over and not feeding you in the morning. It’s indecent,” he says and goes to put the kettle on. “Are you a tea or coffee drinker in the morning?”  
  
“I’m afraid it’s coffee,” Harry answers with a small smile. Louis is quick to turn to the coffee maker. “But if you’re making tea for yourself I’ll drink a cup, I don’t want to disrupt your morning routine,” he adds and takes the two steps to stand next to Louis. They barely fit together in Louis' tiny kitchen, and Louis can feel the warmth of Harry's body next to his. He definitely feels a sharp pain in his lower back from how Harry is moving.  
  
“What can I do or say to convince you that you’re not a bother?” Louis asks with a shake of his head, and gets to making them toast to eat along with their morning coffee. “How did you sleep?”  
  
“Not so well, actually,” Harry says with a grimace. “The sounds of the storm kept me up for a while.”  
  
“Not a very comfortable couch to sleep on either. Do you take anything for your back?” Louis asks before he can stop himself.  
  
“Only when it really hurts. How do you know my back is hurting me?” Harry asks, head tilted to the side.  
  
“I think you mentioned it before, that it gets worse in the mornings,” Louis makes up on the spot. Harry has never said anything about his back, but he hopes he’ll remember doing so.  
  
“Hum,” Harry seems to think about it and shrugs. “Today is not hurting enough for medication, though. With some stretching I’ll be as good as new.”  
  
Louis knows he can help him. With his abilities, he gives unbelievably good massages. Feeling everything the other person is feeling, he knows exactly how to work their tense and sore muscles. He’s done it countless times, on Liam when he has a particularly hard session at the gym, or when Niall wakes up with a stiff neck. Wanting to follow his fingers with his tongue on Harry's back is a new feeling for him, though.  
  
But he can’t just offer a massage, it would be plain weird and borderline creepy. He offers a heating pad, which Harry politely declines.  
  
He makes Harry sit at the table while he sets it with their coffee, sugar, toast, jam, butter, milk and cereal. Harry seems pleased with just the toast, and Louis teases him for the absurd amount of sugar he puts in his coffee.  
  
“Not all of us can drink it black like their souls, Lou,” Harry teases back, holding the steaming mug to his face to hide his smile. Louis feels how comfortable he is, albeit a little sleepy. “You know, this kind of morning usually happens after a different type of night,” Harry says.  
  
Louis feels the teasing in Harry's tone, but doesn’t get what he’s saying completely. Then Harry pointedly looks down to Louis' torso and he realizes he’s _still_ wearing Harry's white shirt. It couldn’t look more as if they had slept together if Louis tried. He adjusts the collar – which of course had fallen off from one of shoulders _, of course_ – and tries to will his face not to become too red from embarrassment.  
  
“I’ll wash it and iron it before giving it back. I didn’t even notice I had it on last night, I guess I was too tired,” Louis babbles, trying to cover up his embarrassment.  
  
Harry slightly shakes his head. “Not necessary. I need it back today anyway. Can’t leave the house looking like this, can I? Besides, you look great in it,” Harry adds with a smirk and finishes his coffee. He stands up and Louis does the same. “I better get going, thank you for letting me stay and for breakfast.”  
  
“It’s still raining,” Louis points to the window, “if you want to wait a little longer, I can drive you. You weren’t going to jog or bike today, were you?”  
  
Harry shakes his head no. “If it’s not too much of a problem for you…” Harry trails off.  
  
“It’s not. I just need to get a few things done before we can go,” Louis says and claps his hands together.  
  
“What’s your morning routine like?” Harry asks curiously.  
  
“Well, I meditate.”  
  
“You do? That’s so cool,” Harry tells him and Louis feels his excitement. “Can I try it?”  
  
“Sure, come on,” Louis moves for them to go to the couch. He doesn’t think he can handle soft, shirtless Harry on his bed this early in the morning. “Sit as comfortably as you can, with your back straight.”  
  
“Don’t I need to cross my legs or something?” Harry asks, sitting on the couch and letting Louis arrange a pillow on his lower back.  
  
“You only have to feel comfortable. Some people prefer to do it laying down but it’s too easy to fall asleep this way. I’ll talk you through it, yeah?”  
  
Harry closes his eyes and looks so determined that Louis chuckles. “If you’re frowning you’re doing it wrong,” Louis tells him and Harry smiles. He mumbles a sorry and Louis starts to instruct him. “Open your eyes for now, and let’s work on our breathing. Breathe deeply through your nose and let the air out through your mouth slowly, making a little sound as you exhale.”  
  
He does just that, and Harry smiles a little when he does the same, looking amusedly at Louis. They do this for about a minute before Louis speaks again. “Now you’ll close your eyes and focus on your breathing. We’re trying to clear our heads and be aware of our bodies, yeah? So you can go back to breathing normal and just focus on the movement of your shoulders, chest and belly as you do it.”  
  
For a couple of minutes that’s all they do. Louis gives Harry a few tips after that, like counting his breaths to keep him focused on them. A few more minutes pass and Louis is instructing him again. “Thoughts are not your enemy, okay? When you realize your mind has wondered off, bring your attention back to your breathing.”  
  
After about ten minutes – Louis is not particularly sure – he tells Harry to change the focus on his breathing to every other sensation in his body, pleasant or unpleasant. He tells him to focus on the weight of his body on the couch, of the fabric touching his skin, on the relaxed position of his arms and legs.  
  
It’s a shitty meditation session for Louis, as he can’t concentrate on himself if his life depended on it. He keeps opening his eyes and glancing as Harry, who didn’t seem to open his eyes once, following Louis' instructions to a T. Louis cuts this usual half an hour session short.  
  
“So you can open your eyes now and stretch,” he tells Harry. He watches as he does it, his ribs slightly poking out from his chest as he puts his arms over his head. Louis notices the hair under Harry's arms, the fair skin on his sides and the movement of his muscles. He swallows dry and pretends to have just opened his eyes when Harry looks at him with a smile on his face. “How do you feel?” Louis asks, as if he can’t feel the relaxed state Harry is in.  
  
“Very relaxed,” he answers, and blinks slowly. “It must do wonders to do this at the end of a stressful day.”  
  
“I like to do it in the morning to set my day off right,” Louis tells him, but hides the part where he has the need to be perfectly aware of his own body, of his own feelings before venturing out into the world, where it’s difficult for him – even after all his life being that way – to distinguish where he ends and other people begin.  
  
“Speaking of which,” Louis continues and stands up, “I’m going to get dressed and ready.”  
  
“Can I have my shirt back, please?” Harry asks, extending his hand to Louis. “Unless you want to lend me one of yours.”  
  
“Yes, right. Of course,” Louis says and starts to unbutton. He’s very much aware of Harry's gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet his eye. He makes quick work of the buttons and shrugs it off his shoulders.  
  
“Thank you,” Harry tells him and puts it back on himself. He smiles softly. “It’s warm from you,” he says and Louis can’t help but look at him. He feels how strongly Harry feels about him in that moment, how fond and attracted he is to Louis.  
  
And he can’t handle it. He scurries off to his bedroom, where he puts on a pair of black jeans, a light blue shirt and his favorite brown jacket, which goes well with the scarf Harry gave him. When he goes back to the living room Harry is also ready, coat and shoes on, waiting for him by the couch.  
  
“Shall we?” Louis tells him and gets his car keys.  
  
“We shall.”  
  
It’s still raining when they step out. Not the raging storm from the night before, but enough to be a nuisance. They get into Louis' car quickly, turning on the heat, and Louis directs half of it to Harry.  
  
The radio starts to play as soon as Louis turns on the ignition, and _Shut Up and Dance with Me_ comes on. It’s a very upbeat song and Harry is bopping his head to it.  
  
“How does this song look like?” he turns to ask Louis.  
  
Louis smiles a bit. “It’s mostly yellow, with electric blues in the more electronic parts.”  
  
“Going to a rave must be quite an experience, huh?”  
  
“Never needed acid to make it crazy,” Louis laughs with him.  
  
“Are you painting something now?”  
  
Louis thinks a little before he shakes his head. He can’t let Harry know what he’s working on, not when it’s about him. “Not right now.”  
  
“What song will you do next?”  
  
“Don’t know yet,” Louis says and stops at a red light. He looks at Harry and sees he’s been watching him. “Any suggestions?”  
  
Harry looks thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll tell you if I think of one.”  
  
They drive in silence for a few blocks, the songs changing and the sounds of the city filling Louis' brain with color.  
  
“Thank you so much, Lou. For letting me crash and for inviting me in the first place,” Harry says when Louis parks in front of the store.  
  
“Not a problem. You’ll be around for pub night this week, right?”  
  
Harry smiles widely. “Definitely. I love hanging out with you and the boys. You’re the first real friends I’ve made here.”  
  
Louis feels how honest Harry's being. “We love having you with us.”  
  
“I’ll see you there, then,” Harry says with a smile and opens the door. He pulls his coat a little over his head and steps out into the rain. Louis waits for him to get inside the store, waves back and drives off when Harry closes the door.  
  
They meet a couple of days later when Harry shows up at the pub quiz, and they have even more fun than when Harry went for the first time. Harry can’t stop staring at him the whole time, and Louis doesn’t know how to handle it.  
  
Harry looks so in love when Louis guesses every single song right just by the first chords – which now Harry understand comes from his synesthesia, he sees the songs as much as he hears them – that Louis feels his own feelings too overpowering for him. He feels like his emotion might overwhelm him at any second now.  
  
“I’ll get this one,” Harry tells them when Niall orders another beer. Louis isn’t drinking anything, can’t risk it. Harry is already a little tipsy – such a light weight – and Louis feels his own inhibitions start to lower when Harry looks at him with those big, puppy eyes of his.  
  
He’s smiling so big at Louis his dimple is clear and deep, and he has that lipstick Louis gave him on. Louis looks down, avoiding Harry's eyes. He accidentally glances at the faint lipstick stain on the rim of Harry's glass, and memories of their kiss flood his mind. He’d never tasted lipstick before, but he remembers exactly how it tasted on Harry's soft, plump lips. His lips were simply made for long, lazy kisses, and Louis needs some air.  
  
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says and gets up rather hastily, causing his knees to bump into the table and the glasses on it rattle.  
  
“But the next round starts in three minutes!” Liam reminds him.  
  
“It’s celebrity time, you can do it without me,” he says behind his shoulder as he makes his way through the people hurrying back to their tables. Instead of going to the bathroom, he heads towards the door and lets the cold air fill his lungs when he steps outside.  
  
The breeze immediately burns his cheeks and he hugs himself against the cold. There are a couple of people smoking near him and he feels a sudden urge to ask for a cigarette for himself. He struggles against it, hasn’t touched one in months.  
  
He leans against the wall, resting his head against the cold bricks and takes a deep breath. He hears the door next to him open and green flashes in his vision.  
  
“Hey,” Harry says timidly and Louis opens his eyes to look at him. He’s holding Louis' coat in his hands, head low. “Thought you could be cold,” he says and hands Louis the coat.  
  
“Thanks,” he says and puts it on. It does almost nothing since Harry is not wearing his own coat, which in turn makes Louis feel cold with the breath he can see coming out of his mouth. “Needed some air,” he explains with a shrug.  
  
“I figured. We’re a disaster tonight, even I don’t wanna be there,” Harry says with a smile, and Louis smiles back.  
  
Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he just stands there, shivering. “Still cold?” Harry asks and Louis gives him a small nod. He stands completely still when Harry moves closer to him and starts running his hands up and down against Louis' arms. He lets out a shaky breath when Harry takes his hands in his own big ones and blows hot air on them. Louis' hands are two blocks of ice, and somehow Harry's are soft and warm, just like the rest of him.  
  
Louis can smell his cologne, his shampoo and the faint smell of pub that’s probably lingering on him as well. He can also feel how strongly Harry feels for him, how much he wants to kiss him by the way he’s staring at Louis' lips. It’s simply too much for him.  
  
He stands on the tips of his toes and kisses Harry, sucking in a breath as Harry opens his own mouth in surprise. Louis takes the opportunity to lightly lick into Harry's parted lips, catching a taste of bitter beer mixed with salt from the peanuts they’ve all been snacking on.  
  
Harry whimpers at the back of his throat and the green that pops in Louis' vision is slightly different than the shade it normally is. It’s darker and it vibrates in small hiccups, and Louis wonders – not for the first and certainly not the last time – how Harry sounds when he’s having sex, when he’s letting out full pleasure filled moans.  
  
This thought is what jerks him back to reality. He pulls away with a wet sound, and it takes a second longer for Harry to open his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Louis mumbles, and before Harry can say a word he’s walking away, hopping into his car and not looking back once.  
  
He can’t do this, he can’t let himself be fooled like this. He knows better, has had a lifetime of practice to learn that his feelings are almost never his own. As soon as he stops seeing Harry, as soon as he stops mirroring Harry's feelings for him, it’ll stop. Louis won’t be so in love with a boy that it physically hurts to be away from him. He won’t want to kiss every inch of his face until he giggles and blushes. He won’t want to take him to bed and make him moan his name. He won’t want to bring him back home and introduce him to his whole family as his boyfriend, certain his mother will be as charmed by Harry as he is. It’ll all stop. It’ll all go away if he simply keeps his distance.  
  
   ~x~  
  
It doesn’t go away. In fact, his feelings for Harry only grow stronger with every passing day. He won’t, can’t stop thinking about him, about his laugh and voice and adorable pigeon feet. It’s driving Louis crazy because it’s not supposed to be like this. He hasn’t seen Harry in almost three weeks, hasn’t even texted him during this time. His brain should’ve caught up by now, it should’ve stopped feeling so disgustingly in love with Harry when he’s out of his sight.  
  
And it breaks his heart the way he’s hurting Harry. The night he left the pub he drove home with his phone vibrating in the passenger seat for the whole drive. He had one missed call from Liam, two from Niall and five from Harry. By the time he made his way up to his flat Harry had already sent him three texts.  
  
_Lou, please pick up the phone  
Did I do something to upset you?  
_  
And the last one, that broke Louis' heart in two.  
  
_I’m sorry  
_  
He hasn’t tried to reach Louis since, which makes Louis feel both relieved and infuriated. Every time he answers the line in his show he half expects it to be Harry with a ridiculous song request, but it never is and Louis' heart gets tighter every time. In turn, Louis doesn’t go to the park anymore.  
  
He’s been infatuated with people before, sure, would even dare say he loved his ex boyfriend. But it had taken him such a long time to feel what he already feels for Harry that he can’t accept these feelings as his own at first.  
  
He struggles against them, and the more he struggles the more confident he is that these are his real feelings. He’s in love with Harry on his own volition.  
  
_Fuck.  
_  
It’s a Friday and he’s way grumpier than he should be this close to the weekend. He enters the station with his head down, nodding at the people he sees and recognizes as he takes the stairs instead of the elevator to the station floor. He’s got his headphones on and it’s a clear sign he doesn’t want to be bothered. So, obviously, Liam goes talk to him as soon as he steps foot into the studio.  
  
“Good morning, sunshine,” he says in a mock cheerful tone as Louis just grunts a response. “Isn’t it a lovely day?” he points to the window. It’s pouring.  
  
“Don’t you have a show in ten minutes?” Louis asks him, gulping his lukewarm tea and making a face at it.  
  
“Exactly, in ten minutes,” Liam says and plops down on the chair next to Louis. He looks serious all of a sudden and Louis knows what he’s about to say before he even asks. “Did you talk to Harry?”  
  
“No,” Louis replies dryly. “I can’t do it now, can I? After the asshole I was to him. Twice.”  
  
Liam nods and Louis' sour mood improves a little. Liam is truly, honestly concerned about him. He wants to hug him, but if does he knows he’s going to end up clinging to him and spilling his guts if he does, and Liam has to work in ten minutes. Not enough time for a proper break down.  
  
“Maybe you should text him hello or something. Confess your love for him, apologize and hope to God he’ll give you another chance.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Louis says, turning on his chair to completely face Liam. “Confess my love for him?”  
  
“Come on, Lou. We’ve been friends too long for you to hide things from me. I don’t need to be a synesthete to know how you’re feeling,” Liam explains and lays a strong, comforting hand on Louis' shoulder.  
  
“I’m such an idiot, Li,” Louis says and rests his forehead against Liam’s arm. He feels Liam’s hand run through the back of his head, smoothing his hair back and sighs. “What if I end up hurting him even more? He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.”  
  
“That’s why you need to lay all the cards on the table for him. He’s a grown man, he knows what’s best for him, but you gotta give him the choice.”  
  
“Sometimes we don’t want what’s best for us, sometimes we want the thing that is going to hurt us the most,” Louis argues, and Liam nods.  
  
“It’s what makes life worth living, huh? Taking chances?”  
  
“Why do we both sound like self help books today?” Louis says with a groan, falling back on his chair.  
  
Liam chuckles and gets up. “Gotta go. Go tell Harry how you feel, the worst that can happen is he’ll say no and then you can move on with your life instead of being hung up on this.”  
  
Liam, always the wise one. “I’ll think about it,” Louis concedes and Liam squeezes his shoulder one more time before getting up.  
  
“Oh, I almost forgot what I came in here for,” he says as he reaches the door. He digs his hands into his back pocket and takes out two tickets from it, putting them on Louis' table. “We got these for next weekend. You like them more than me, so maybe you can find someone else to take with you,” he says with a smile.  
  
Louis looks down. Two tickets for the Foo Fighters. Well, now he has to do it.  
  
The next day Louis is standing in front of Harry's shop at seven thirty in the morning. He thinks it’s early enough that Harry won’t be out for his morning run yet, although he doesn’t know what Harry's schedule is on a Saturday.  
  
The shop is closed, obviously, and Louis paces nervously as he gets his phone and dials Harry's number for the first time in almost a month. It rings and rings and Louis tries to remember if he saw Harry carrying his phone with him when they meet in the park. Most people don’t leave their house without their phone but with Harry one could never know.  
  
“Hello?” Harry finally picks up and Louis closes his eyes to fully enjoy the hue of green that lights up in his mind. He was expecting Harry to sound breathless from exercising, but instead he sounds gruff and hoarse. Weird. “Hello? Who is this?”  
  
Right, Louis has to speak as well. Ignoring the sharp pain he feels because Harry has already deleted his number from his contacts, Louis speaks. “Hi, it’s me. Louis,” he adds after a second. The line is silent for such a long time that Louis pulls his phone from his ear to check the screen and see if the call is still going. It is. “Harry?”  
  
“Yeah?” Harry says, and Louis closes his eyes. He’s never heard this tone in Harry's voice before. He sounds annoyed, borderline angry.  
  
“Hum – Hum, are you going to be home soon?” he asks, leaning against the metal gate of the shop to not disturb the foot traffic around him.  
  
“What?” Harry asks, and he definitely sounds annoyed now.  
  
“From your run? I wanted to talk to you when you got back.”  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“I’m outside your place,” Louis confesses.  
  
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he hears Harry say and take a deep breath. “Hang on just a minute, I’ll be right there.”  
  
The line goes silent and Louis takes a deep breath himself. This isn’t off to a good start, and now he has to wait God knows how long until Harry gets home. He shouldn’t have come unannounced, it only pissed Harry off, but he can’t leave now, can he?  
  
He forces his feet to keep still, leaning his head against the gate and avoiding looking at anybody around him, focusing on his Vans instead of the people around him. He holds the box he has in his hands tightly, feeling his palms sweaty. He startles when the gate starts to rattle next to him and the small door opens to reveal a bed-headed Harry, wearing a pair of grey sweats, white t-shirt and slippers.  
  
“You were home?” Louis asks, incredulous. He feels like yawning with how sleepy Harry looks, puffy eyes and grumpy pout.  
  
“It’s fucking seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday, Louis. Of course I was,” he says and steps aside so that Louis can come in.  
  
“I’m sorry I woke you,” Louis apologizes, but Harry has already turned his back and is heading to the stairs leading to his flat, and Louis scrambles to follow him. They reach Harry's flat and Harry closes the door after Louis.  
  
“Gonna wash my face, hold on,” Harry says and disappears down the hallway. Louis stands uncomfortably, coat and shoes still on. He thinks about running at least two times before Harry comes back. When he does, he offers him tea, and Louis accepts it more to have something to do with his hands than actual need. He feels like throwing up already.  
  
Harry stands with his back to him while waiting for the kettle, and Louis tries not to look at him because Harry is currently exuding annoyance, and Louis doesn’t want to feel that. He wants to feel his own feelings, and not how tense and painful Harry's back looks.  
  
He feels the tightness on his jaw when he catches a glimpse of Harry's profile, and looks down at his feet. He sits at the table when Harry brings their cups.  
  
“Why are you here, Louis?” Harry asks him, and Louis takes a sip of his tea to buy time.  
  
“I brought you something,” Louis starts, and puts the small gift box on the table in front of Harry.  
  
“What is it?” Harry asks dryly, not moving a muscle to catch it.  
  
“It’s a present,” Louis says, small. “For you.”  
  
Harry lets out a humorless laugh that cuts right through Louis' chest. “You brought me a present?” Harry shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”  
  
“I wanted to apologize to you, think of it as a peace offering,” Louis starts but Harry doesn’t let him say too much after that.  
  
“There’s nothing to apologize, yeah? It’s not like we’re friends who had a falling out, we weren’t even that.”  
  
And okay, ouch. “Harry, if you’ll let me-“  
  
“No, Louis. You don’t get to do this,” Harry says, and Louis feels how truly upset Harry’s getting. “You don’t get to play with me like this again, I’m done.”  
  
“I’m not playing with you, I never was, I-”  
  
“Oh you weren’t? Let’s see,” Harry starts counting on his fingers. “First you say yes to going out on a date with me, we kiss and you decide you don’t want it. Fine, maybe I misinterpreted the whole situation and you’re simply not interested. I say fine, and I appreciate your honesty in not leading me on.”  
  
Harry runs a frustrated hand through his hair and Louis feels it at the tips of his fingers, greasy and full of tangles. “You say you wanna be friends, and I agree. I like you enough to wanna be around you even if it’s not the way I want it. During this whole time you give me these looks that make me think maybe you wanna be more than that, but I don’t do anything about. You said you didn’t want it and I respected your decision to just be friends.”  
  
Louis braces himself for the worst, holding tight to the hot mug in his hands.  
  
“And then one night, out of the blue you kiss me and then nothing. Radio silence for weeks, nothing. Why did you kiss me only to disappear like that?” he asks but Louis isn’t sure he’s supposed to talk, much less answer. “So no, I don’t want your gift.”  
  
Harry is breathing hard now and Louis tries his best to keep his breathing normal, like he is in control of his own body and feelings. He doesn’t think he can quite pull it off.  
  
“And now you look angry,” Harry says, eyes wide in incredulity. “Please, leave,” he says and looks away.  
  
“No,” Louis says, firmly and almost without a tremble in his voice.  
  
“Excuse me?” Harry says, and he looks so stunned Louis almost laughs.  
  
“I came here to talk to you and explain myself, and I won’t leave until you hear me,” he says and is sure Harry can hear his heart drumming in his chest. He’s got an adrenaline rush from confronting Harry like that. He’s heard what Harry had to say and now he needs to speak or he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. “Please, Harry. Let me explain myself, I promise I have a good reason for my behavior.”  
  
Harry looks at him with a blank expression. For most people, it would be very hard to decipher what Harry is feeling, but this never happens with Louis. He knows what everybody is feeling all the time, and it’s no different with Harry. “I can see you’re curious, so please let me speak. If you still want me to leave afterwards I’ll go and you’ll never have to worry about me again, but give me ten minutes, yeah?”  
  
Harry looks down, defeated. “Go ahead,” he says, like Louis knew he would.  
  
“Thank you,” he says and takes another sip of his tea, looking down at the steam coming from the mug. “You know I can see colors in sounds, right?”  
  
Harry nods, confused as Louis knew he would be.  
  
“Well, I have another type of synesthesia, called mirror-touch. Have you heard of it?”  
  
Harry shakes his head, and Louis can feel the tenseness in his shoulders and jaws slacking a little at the unexpected topic.  
  
“It means I feel what other people feel. Literally, all the time,” Louis says and waits for Harry's reaction. It comes quickly.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean exactly that. I feel what other people feel, emotionally and physically. If I see you touching your arm with your hand, I’ll feel the touch on my own arm. If you wrap a blanket around you, I’ll feel the weight and warmth from it as if it were on my own back. When you’re happy and giddy, I feel it. When you’re angry and confused, as you are now, I also feel it.”  
  
“Are you serious?” Harry asks, setting down his own mug at the table. “How?”  
  
Louis shrugs. “I just do. My brain is wired in a way that it doesn’t distinguish between my body and somebody else’s. If it sees a hand touching an arm, it’ll automatically send the sensation down to my own arm, not realizing it’s not my own body that is supposed to be feeling the touch.”  
  
Harry is silently staring at him, so Louis goes on.  
  
“Everything we feel comes from our brain, right? Our nerve endings send a signal to our brain and it sends back a reaction. My brain does that all the time, regardless of who the subject is. I can feel your back is hurting you today just from the way you were moving when you were walking. I can taste the tea you’re drinking because my brain sees a mouth swallowing it, and I feel the sensation too, all the way down my throat.”  
  
“That’s…that sounds-” Harry starts but doesn’t finish.  
  
“Overwhelming? It is. Not to mention the emotional sensations. You know when you see a person you love crying and you feel like crying too? Or when somebody laughs and you start laughing just because they’re laughing, even if it’s not funny?” Harry nods. “I feel a more enhanced form of that. I don’t relate to your feelings, I literally feel them. Every micro expression in your face, my brain interprets it as being my own and I feel it. Not the best idea to play poker with me,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
“Louis, that’s…I don’t even know what I wanna say,” Harry says and Louis feels his anger has completely vanished.  
  
“I’m not saying that for you to feel sorry for me, it’s just the background behind my actions. Can I have more tea, please?” he asks, feeling his throat dry. Harry scrambles to his feet and pours him another mug. Neither of them says anything and Louis takes his time to recollect his thoughts in a way they’ll make sense.  
  
When they are seated down with freshly brewed mugs, he clears his throat and continues. “Since I feel what other people are feeling, it’s very hard for me to tell what my own feelings are and what’s simply a mirror of what the other person is feeling. At least at first. With you…Harry, with you,” he says and can’t help but smile. “You feel wonderfully, Harry.”  
  
Harry reciprocates the smile, but is still confused. “You feel things so intensely, you felt for _me_ so intensely that I wasn’t sure I wasn’t just mirroring you, you know? When I wanted to kiss you, I didn’t know if it was really me or if I just wanted to do it because you wanted to. Makes sense?”  
  
Harry nods. “I guess so,” he says and looks so much like a confused puppy that Louis feels an urge to hold his hand. He keeps them exactly as they are on the table.  
  
“When I started to- when I started to have feelings for you, I thought they were just a mirror of your feelings for me.”  
  
“Am I so obvious?” Harry asks, and seems like he wants to slap himself for not keeping his mouth shut. Louis tries not to feel so hopeful with the present tense in that sentence.  
  
“Just a little,” Louis says with a shy smile. “The point is, I’ve never felt this way so fast about anybody before, and it only grew the more time we spent together. So, to be sure I wasn’t just mirroring you, I decided to keep my distance. I know I was a total dick the way I went about doing that, and I deserve you being upset with me. But I was sure all my feelings for you would go away as soon as I stopped seeing you. That my brain would catch up with my real feelings and I would realized it was nothing more than a silly crush. But my feelings didn’t go away when you did,” he finally confesses.  
  
He could cry from how relieved he feels when Harry smiles. “They didn’t?” he asks, and Louis shakes his head.  
  
“This is how I really feel about you, Harry. And I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you this whole time it took me to figure things out. You didn’t deserve any of the pain I put you though.” He takes a deep breath. “There, this is what I had to say,” he says and closes his eyes, bracing himself.  
  
“Lou? Look at me,” Harry tells him, and Louis does what he’s asked. “How do I feel now?” he asks.  
  
Louis smiles shyly. “Happy?”  
  
Harry nods. “Happy,” he confirms. “Come here,” he tells him, and Louis gets up from his chair to stand next to Harry. Before he knows it, Harry has pulled him on his lap and is hugging him tight. “Thank you for coming here and telling me all that,” he says into Louis' shoulder. Louis hugs him back and closes his eyes, basking in the feeling.  
  
“This is my favorite thing, you know? Hugging.”  
  
Harry looks up at him and Louis pushes a strand of Harry's hair out of his face. He can finally feel it for real this time. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah, I feel myself hugging you and you hugging me, in like an infinite loop. Hard to explain,” he says, but Harry nods in understanding.  
  
“Hugception,” he says solemnly and Louis chuckles. “How do you feel about kissing?” Harry asks him.  
  
“Love that, too,” Louis answers and starts to inch closer.  
  
“Glad to hear it, let me just brush my teeth first,” Harry says and Louis laughs, getting up from his lap. When Harry doesn’t come back for a good ten minutes, Louis knows he needs some time to take it all in. There’s so much more Louis wants to discuss with him, and he hopes Harry chooses to give him this chance.  
  
Harry comes back from the bathroom with his hair in a bun and smelling of mint. Louis tries to give him the box one more time. “Will you take my gift, now?”  
  
Harry nods with a smile that makes his dimple appear. Louis feels weak in the knees. “Love getting presents,” he says and takes the box from Louis' hands. “What is it?”  
  
“You have to open it, you goose,” Louis jokes and Harry chuckles. Louis feels lighter than air. Harry doesn’t hate him, at least not anymore. He watches Harry open his present with the barely contained excitement of a child, and his whole face lights up with the small tube of nail polish he holds reverently in his hands.  
  
“This is gorgeous, Lou,” he says, excitedly. He untwists the cap and watches in fascination the light pink color drip from the brush back into the bottle. “Thank you so much, I love it.”  
  
“I think it’ll go well with the lipstick I gave you,” Louis adds, and Harry nods.  
  
“Definitely. Will you put it on me? I’m rubbish with my left hand.”  
  
Louis grins. “Anytime you want. There’s more in the box.”  
  
Harry focuses his attention back to his present and pulls out the two tickets for the concert at the bottom of the box. “They’re both yours, no matter what we talked about today, I’d already made up my mind about it. You mentioned you liked them one time, and they’re great seats,” Louis explains quickly. “You can go with whoever you want,” he adds.  
  
Harry looks at him so softly and fond that Louis feels himself melt. “Would you like to go with me, Lou?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay, but honestly, though. Who needs a frilly, puffy pirate shirt like that?” Louis asks from behind him and Harry chuckles.  
  
“I happen to like that shirt very much,” he says, and Louis rolls his eyes.  
  
“Of course you do,” he says and goes back to ironing it.  
  
He’s standing behind the counter, closer to the back of Harry's store, ironing a pile of clothes as tall as himself, which isn’t saying much in Harry's opinion. He wants to comment on it just to see Louis get angry. He doubt he will, though. Louis is being so apologetic that Harry thinks he could get away with pretty much anything.  
  
The bell rings as the door opens and Harry slowly turns his gaze away from Louis to the customers entering the store. It’s a mother and teenage daughter, and Harry walks up to them right away to offer his assistance, but backs away politely when they assure him they’re just browsing.  
  
He turns his attention back to Louis, walking up behind him to check his progress. “This sleeve is still wrinkled,” he points out, hiding his smile.  
  
“I’m holding a very hot household appliance, Styles. Are you sure this is the right time to taunt me?” he says, lifting the iron from the board and trying to look annoyed. Harry can see right through it and gives him a peck on the cheek.  
  
“You’re doing great, Lou. Only about sixty seven more to go,” he sing songs and walks towards the customers who are trying to get his attention. He hears Louis curse under his breath behind him and grins. Harry almost feels sorry for him, but a small part of him is glad that Louis is in a little distress. He really was an asshole to Harry for a long time.  
  
After spending at least an hour apologizing to Harry over and over again and covering his face with kisses – which made him giggle and feel as bashful as a teen – and asking Harry to find a way he could make it up to him, it hit Harry then that there was something Louis could do. That was how Louis ended up with the task of ironing all the clothes Harry had washed during the week. Harry liked them clean and ironed when he put them on the rack, didn’t want any person who shopped in his store to feel less deserving of a good shopping experience just because of a strict budget.  
  
He helped the girl find a very pretty teal dress for her high school graduation party along with a recommendation to a seamstress that could make all the necessary adjustments for a really good price. “Thank you so much, please come again soon. And have a wonderful time at your party, darling. Dance the night away,” he said with a wave, and turned to look at Louis when they left. He was looking at him with a small smile on his face. “What?”  
  
“The girl really loved her dress, H. She was so happy with it, it was great to see.”  
  
“She was, wasn’t she? The mom too, I think,” Harry adds, walking towards Louis and looking down. “You’re burning the skirt, Lou.”  
  
“Oh shit,” Louis says, pulling the hot iron from where it left a mark on the thin fabric of the white skirt.  
  
They spend a great Saturday together with Louis helping him around the store, dusting and mopping when he’s done with the ironing. When it’s a little after four o’clock and no customers have entered the store in the past half hour – it’s always slower on the last Saturday of the month when people are mostly out of cash – Harry calls it a day.  
  
“Thanks for the help with the store today,” he says as they make their way upstairs to Harry's flat.  
  
“Least I could do,” Louis tells him and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Harry waits standing in the kitchen, and when Louis comes back he has made up his mind.  
  
“Do you wanna stay and hang out for a bit?” he asks as nonchalantly as he possibly can, even if he’s sure Louis can certainly tell he’s not as cool as he wants him to think.  
  
“Only if you feed me, I’m starving,” Louis says, rubbing his stomach and Harry laughs.  
  
“I can do that. I have some frozen chicken I can defrost and make us something,” he suggests and Louis shakes his head.  
  
“No cooking on a Saturday night after working all day, no sir. Let’s get take out,” he says and Harry is more than happy with the idea.  
  
They sit in the living room and Harry turns on the TV for background noise as they chat and drink tea. He notices Louis isn’t looking at it and a thought occurs to him. “Do you feel things from people on TV, too?”  
  
Louis nods. “Yeah, that’s why I’m very selective about what I watch. Comedies like the Three Stooges are a nightmare for me, as are horror movies. Nothing fun about getting stabbed,” he says and Harry chuckles.  
  
“How can you tell? You’ve never been stabbed before,” he pauses for a second. “Have you?”  
  
Louis grins. “Thanks to all the Gods above, no. But whenever I see someone experiencing a pain I’ve never had before, I feel this very dull and strong pain at the back of my knees. It makes me dizzy with how strong it is sometimes. I actually fainted once, when my mother was in labor with one of my sisters. The nurse had to leave my poor mother to come and help me.” Harry laughs and Louis laughs himself. “It was awful, I couldn’t be around her when she was having contractions, and missed the birth of all my siblings because of that.”  
“You don’t watch much TV, then? You said you liked soccer,” Harry comments.  
  
“I can watch it mostly fine, maybe a little out of breath when they focus on the players’ tired faces. I look away when someone gets injured, and I can always tell when it’s genuine. I enjoy books more, and music, and podcasts.”  
  
Harry thinks for a second, unsure he should ask what’s on his mind. Louis rolls his eyes at him. “You want to ask me about porn, don’t you?”  
  
Harry’s eyes widen. “No, I wasn’t going to- I mean, I was wondering, but I-”  
  
Louis grins mischievously. “I feel them, too, you know. Also have to be very selective because everything can be going well and great and suddenly I feel a fist going up my ass,” he says and Harry barks out a laugh. “No judgement if you like it, though,” Louis adds and Harry shakes his head.  
  
“Not my thing either. Still, it must be fun, right? To feel what they’re feeling?” Harry asks, feeling just a tad aroused by this conversation. He wonders if Louis can feel it. He probably does.  
  
“Makes masturbation a hell of a complete experience,” Louis adds with a grin and shifts in his seat.  
  
“Can we talk about this? Like, is it an uncomfortable subject for you?” Harry asks, putting his mug on the coffee table and inching closer to Louis until his knee is touching Louis' thigh.  
  
“Masturbation? Not unless I’m eating,” Louis teases but shakes his head. “We can talk about my synesthesia, it’s fine. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”  
  
“I do, but I don’t want to touch a nerve or something,” Harry explains, putting a hand on Louis' thigh and squeezing it lightly. Louis covers it with his own hand and keeps it there.  
  
“Ask away, and if I don’t want to answer I just won’t,” he says and Harry nods.  
  
“Were you always like this?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s something you’re born with. I was a very sensitive kid and my parents knew something was up from when I was a toddler. I didn’t realize until I was much older that not everybody was like me. Not everybody could feel what others felt, and it dumfounded me when other kids didn’t know what others were feeling. I thought it was just the way things were. It also made me a very angry child.”  
  
“How come?” Harry asks with a furrow of his brow.  
  
“Well, for starters, my dad wasn’t the most supportive. He thought I was too sensitive, and I never liked the usual rough and tumble kids love so much. It hurt both ways for me. He was afraid I’d grow up to be a sissy and a fag. His words, not mine,” he adds when he sees the expression on Harry's face. “He wanted to toughen me up, and the best way in his mind was to beat the sensitiveness out of me.”  
  
“Oh, Lou,” Harry says and pulls him in for a hug. Louis gives in without a second thought. When he pulls away he doesn’t look as sad as Harry thought he would.  
  
“Weirdly enough, I always felt worse for him. I always knew the pain he felt when he was punishing me was greater than the actual beatings. I could see how much it hurt him. I’m not making excuses for him, he was a shitty dad and I’m glad he’s not in my life anymore, but it helps when you understand what makes a bully a bully. You sympathize with them, you know?”  
  
Harry nods for Louis' sake because he’s not sure he understands. He’s angry at everybody who has ever done Louis any harm, intentional or not, especially if it was a person who was supposed to protect him from harm, and not cause it.  
  
“No need to be upset about it, H. It is what it is, yeah? And besides, being a teenager was far worse,” he adds and pulls away just enough to pick up his mug and finish his tea. Harry waits for him to take the last sip and then pulls him close again. “Do you remember how you felt when you were fourteen?”  
  
“Unfortunately,” Harry answers and Louis grins.  
  
“Yeah, now imagine being a in a room full of people and you can feel absolutely _everything_. I did my best to avoid any of it, all of the pain that surrounded me. I felt so different from them but also the same because what they were feeling was also what I was feeling, but I was so different from all of them.”  
  
Harry can’t help himself. He adjusts themselves on the couch in a way that they’re laying on their sides and facing each other. The sun is setting and it casts the most beautiful golden light in the room, making it peaceful and surreal.  
  
“I used to come home from school and hole up in my room for hours, in absolute darkness and not wanting to interact with anyone, just making a mental inventory of myself, of what I felt and who I really was. I understand it’s difficult for everyone to find themselves, but for a very long time I felt like there was something wrong with me, that I was defective in some way. It made me very angry, at times. Everybody seemed to jump easily into the fire, and I simply wasn’t flame retardant enough. I wasn’t fireproof like everybody else.”  
  
 “I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry says, keeping Louis close and tangling their legs together. He can almost feel Louis' breath on his face with how close they are.  
  
“No need to be sorry, I’ve learned to deal with it. Well, not entirely, but enough to function normally. I still have my bad days.”  
  
“Are you constantly overwhelmed? Like, just walking down the street sounds like a nightmare,” Harry says, baffled as to how Louis can handle all of this.  
  
“Not all the time. I have to focus on something, really. Like, are you aware now of all the things your body is feeling? Are you aware of the seam of your jeans pressed against your leg, or the way your hair is touching your neck, or the pressure my leg is making on top of yours?”  
  
“Only if I pay attention to these things,” Harry says after thinking for a moment.  
  
“Exactly. We’re not aware of everything happening in our bodies all the time, our brains have a pretty good filter and keep most things at the back of our minds. I can feel more or less depending on my focus. That’s why I do my awareness meditation sessions every morning, to asses my body and take control of it. To remind myself of who I am.”  
  
“It still sounds like a lot,” Harry says, cupping Louis' face in the palm of his hand. Louis smiles and presses a kiss to Harry's palm.  
  
“I’ve since shifted my perspective a bit. I mean, I get to experience wonderful things as well. I never watched the exact moment my mom gave birth to my siblings, but I felt her incomprehensible amount of love when she held them in her arms right after they were born.”  
  
“That sounds amazing, actually,” Harry says with an honest smile.  
  
“It is,” Louis says, beaming. “I realized I had to make a choice. I could distance myself from everybody who loved me and live my life numbly, closed up in myself avoiding pain and heartbreak as much as I was avoiding happiness. It made sense to do it, because then the boundaries of who I really was would become clearer, and that’s who I was for a very long time.”  
  
Louis stops to think for a moment, and Harry says nothing, patiently waiting for him to think about what he’s willing to say. He simply runs his hands on Louis' back, smiling softly at him when their eyes meet.  
  
“Now,” Louis continues after a sigh. “Now I simply surrender myself to it, I accept it. Surrender is a good thing, a positive thing, I think. Some things you simply can’t change and have absolutely no control over. I’ve come to accept that I don’t need to control or change anything. I just let it be. It is what it is.”  
  
“It is what it is,” Harry repeats after him, fingers running above where Louis' tattoo is on his chest.  
  
“Yeah,” Louis agrees and they stay silent for a very long time. The sun has set and the room is getting a little colder, but neither of them feel it with the warmth they’re sharing in their personal bubble. “Is it too much for you?” Louis finally asks.  
  
“Is what too much?”  
  
“This. Me,” Louis huffs out a humorless laugh. “You know what I mean.”  
  
“Is it too much for _you_?” Harry asks him back. “Would it be too much for you to be around me for long periods of time? Like, I can get pretty annoying and grumpy at times, I’m not always in the best of moods.”  
  
Louis smiles so wide his eyes crinkle. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed by the number of people I surround myself with, which is pretty much just Niall and Liam, but I’m very selective of people I keep relationships with. I wouldn’t have come here and poured my heart out to you if I didn’t want you, and everything that comes with it, good and bad.”  
  
Harry feels his eyes fill with tears, and swallows hard. He won’t cry, he simply won’t. He’s known to cry about even the silliest of things, but he can’t embarrass himself like that just now. Louis will run and never look back.  
  
“Don’t you dare cry, Styles. I can never see a person cry and not cry myself, so just swallow it,” Louis says with a chuckle, and wipes at his own watering eyes.  
  
“See? This is what I’m talking about,” Harry says between wet chuckles and Louis shuts him up with a quick kiss to his lips. It’s warm and slow and they take their time. It slowly gets deeper than any kiss they’ve ever shared so far, full of tongue and breathless moans, and Harry feels lightheaded by the time they pull apart.  
  
“Told you I liked kissing,” Louis says with a wicked grin before grabbing the back of Harry's neck and pulling him in for another kiss.  
  
They order takeout and tune in on a talk show, and talk about anything other than Louis' synesthesia. Louis doesn’t look at Harry when they’re eating, and since Harry knows it’s because he can taste his food in his own mouth, Harry is done with it much faster than he usually eats.  
  
“Again, I’m really sorry for the way I treated you,” Louis says as they stand at the metal gate of the shop, hours later. Harry feels emotionally drained and he’s not even the one to speak from his heart like that.  
  
“Don’t apologize, if I knew what you were going through I would never made you iron all those clothes,” Harry says and Louis giggles.  
  
“You were mean, but I deserved it. See you tomorrow at the park?” Louis asks with a raise of his brows.  
  
“See you tomorrow at the park,” Harry says and pecks him on the lips, quick and chaste. He waves as Louis drives away and smiles to himself.  
  
                                                                                                                             ~x~  
  
Harry calls the station every day, asking for increasingly ridiculous songs every time. He saves the best for Friday.  
  
_“You’ve reached Tommo on Demand, who am I speaking to?”  
_  
Harry grins as he speaks. “Hi, it’s Harry.”  
  
_“My dear Harold, so nice of you to join us. Is it what, the fifth time you’re calling this week?”_ Louis teases, but Harry can hear the smile in his voice.  
  
“I’m feeling inspired, I think.”  
  
_“What can I play for you today?”  
_  
“Uhm, I want to listen to Steel Panther, The Burden of Being Wonderful,” he says, chuckling into the line.  
  
Louis flats out laughs at that. _“Do you relate to this song, Harold?”_  
  
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Harry teases and Louis chuckles. He loves it.  
  
_“Well then there you go, folks. Harold’s biography song.”  
  
_ There’s a click on the line and Louis' voice reaches only his ears. “You’re ridiculous,” it’s the first thing he says.  
  
“I’m also right. Am I not simply wonderful? I feel like the lyrics were written for me,” he jokes, unable to stop grinning when he knows Louis is doing the same.  
  
“Such humility, I’m impressed. Are you excited for tomorrow?”  
  
“Oh my God I can’t wait, haven’t been to a proper concert in ages,” he says animatedly, pacing around his shop and hoping no one comes in in the next three minutes.  
  
“I was thinking of taking the tube instead of driving to the venue, it’ll be a nightmare to find parking. Is it okay with you if I don’t give you a ride this time?”  
  
“Absolutely, we can meet there before it starts,” he suggests. His original plan was to meet up for dinner first but then he remembered how Louis feels eating around other people. Dating as he usually knows it will take some adjustments.

“The song is about to end, so I’ll call you later, yeah?” Louis says and Harry smiles.  
  
“Yes, please. Talk to you later,” he says and Louis says his goodbyes as the last chords of the song play and Harry is left happier than ever.  
  
Louis has developed the habit of calling him every night before bed, and Harry particularly loves it when he’s sleepy and his filter is a little off. It’s almost like he’s drunk, saying silly things that make Harry giggle. He’s learned that Louis really likes his hair and dimple, and that he’s working on a present for him.  
  
It makes Harry feel like he’s lacking with Louis lavishing him with gifts and him giving nothing in return. He needs to think about a good Christmas present for him, and find out when his birthday is.  
  
The next day they meet in front of the venue about an hour before the concert starts. Louis is positively giddy with excitement as they enter and make their way to their seats. First row up, right after the pit.  
  
“These are great seats indeed,” Harry muses, looking around him from his privileged position. “Do I wanna know how much these cost?”  
  
“Absolutely nothing,” Louis says and grins at Harry's expression. “The station gets a bunch of tickets for many different musical events. Most of them are prizes for our listeners, but more often than not we receive a few for the staff. We share them amongst ourselves according to our preferences.”  
  
“You have the coolest job, Lou,” Harry tells him in amazement.  
  
Louis laughs. “I’ll have to agree with you on that one, Harold. I get to listen to music all day and talk to different people all the time without having to actually be around them. Dream job even if the pay could be better.”  
  
“The pay can always be better,” Harry agrees. As much as he loves going to concerts, his current budget doesn’t allow for frequent expensive outings like this. He considers himself lucky that Louis doesn’t look like he needs much money to entertain himself and that he won’t be disappointed that Harry can’t take him out on fancy dates.  
  
They hold hands all the way before the lights go off, and Harry feels a rush of adrenaline as everybody stands up and screams, waiting for the band.  
  
“I absolutely love this,” Louis says loudly in his ear, so close that Harry hears him perfectly over the sound of the frantic crowd. “Very few places have as many happy people as concerts,” he adds.  
  
Harry can only wonder how Louis feels in this moment. Everybody around them looks excited and happy. It’s incredibly contagious and Harry feels the energy of the crowd amp up his own. Everybody loses it when the lights go up and the lead singer enters the stage with a scream and starts playing their first song.  
  
Harry screams with everybody, feels Louis jumping up and down next to him and singing and screaming along. Harry laughs out loud with how good he’s feeling and glances at Louis. Their eyes meet and Louis looks the happiest Harry has ever seen him. He needs to save up all his money so he can bring Louis to as many concerts as he can.  
  
They sing and scream and dance for almost three hours. Harry feels on cloud nine, having the time of his life. Louis looks even happier than him, which is to be expected. He kisses Harry harshly during one of the songs and Harry lets himself be kissed for as long as Louis wants to.  
  
The concert ends and Harry is still feeling the high from it as they dodge the crowd leaving the venue. Louis has both his hands on his shoulders the whole time, walking behind him as Harry makes way through the barrage of people.  
  
They speak only when they get to the street, and Louis clings to him, laughing in his neck. Harry is drenched in sweat, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind. “That was amazing, wasn’t it?” he says, holding Harry by the waist. Harry’s ears are ringing, Louis' voice reaching him muffled. His throat feels raw from all the screaming and he’s never felt better in his life.  
  
“Incredible, I can’t remember enjoying a concert so much,” Harry admits and sways in place when a person bumps hard into him. He walks them backwards, pressing themselves against a wall.  
  
“Are we going to make out like teens now?” Louis asks, pulling Harry hard against him, completely ignoring the people walking past them. “You feel like you want to.”  
  
“I do not, we’re in the middle of the street,” Harry says firmly, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone. He’s strangely aroused, residual energy from the concert still pumping in his veins.  
  
“Liar,” Louis says and kisses him. Just a firm press of his lips, and when Harry darts his tongue out – contradicting his previous statement – Louis pulls away and holds his hand. “Come on, or we’ll miss the last train.”  
  
They walk briskly, hands clasped tight, until they reach the tube station. It’s only a couple of blocks away, and the carts are full of people, the majority clearly having left the concert as well.  
  
Harry and Louis ride pressed against each other. Harry can blame the crowded cart for his proximity, but he loves the way Louis is holding himself upright by pressing into Harry, a finger looped around Harry's belt. Harry feels intoxicated with how close Louis is, and before he really thinks about it, he presses a kiss to Louis' damp neck.  
  
Louis shivers against him. “I stink.”  
  
“Uhum,” Harry agrees, pressing a line of kisses up to his ear. “Don’t care,” he whispers only for Louis to hear. He feels bold, but not enough to do anything else in such a public place. The excess endorphins in his system are making his brain foggy.  
  
The ride is long, and they soon find places to sit as people leave at their stations. Harry is immensely thankful because his feet are killing him. Even in his most comfortable pair of boots, his feet can’t handle standing up any longer.  
  
He’s starting to come down from his high, and feels his throat hurting more than he did twenty minutes ago. His ears are better, but he’s slowly crashing from the exhaustion. He rests his head on Louis' shoulder and closes his eyes, just to rest them for a little while.  
  
He wakes up to Louis gently shaking him. “We’re almost at your station, H,” he says softly, and Harry stands up straight.  
  
“Are you coming with me?” he asks, voice hoarse and he grimaces.  
  
“Not tonight, too tired,” Louis says and runs his hand through Harry's curls, an utter matted mess at this point. “Is your throat hurting you too much?”  
  
“Just a little from the screaming,” he says, and gets up as the train begins to stop. “Call me when you get home safe, yeah?”  
  
“I will,” Louis nods and kisses Harry briefly, sitting down immediately after. Harry guesses he feels tired for both of them.  
  
Harry slowly walks the three blocks from the station to his house. The streets are still full of people out on a Saturday night, and he takes his time admiring the Christmas decorations. He feels homesick, but happy his mom is taking a well deserved vacation in paradise.  
  
He immediately jumps in the shower, washing the grime and sweat from his skin. He considers making tea for his throat, but decides against it. He’s too tired. He climbs into bed completely naked and gets cozy under the warm blankets. He checks his phone and sees he’s got a text from Louis.  
  
_didnt call because i didnt know if you were sleeping. thanks for tonight, i had the best time of my life. sleep well, styles. i’ll drop by tomorrow  
_  
The message is followed by a whole line of kissing emojis and Harry smiles to himself. He plugs his phone to the charger and falls back to his pillow, falling asleep in less than five seconds.  
  
He wakes up feeling like complete and utter shit. It feels like he’s swallowing glass with every gulp, and his whole body aches. Even the ruffle in the sheets hurt his skin and he grumbles in frustration. He definitely has a fever, as well as a pounding headache. He checks his phone and sees it’s almost noon. With a groan he sits up in bed, putting his feet on the floor and debating getting out of bed at all. His bladder makes that decision for him.  
  
Shuffling his feet, he goes to the cabinet in the bathroom and takes out the thermometer, sitting on the toilet as he waits for the temperature reading, shivering miserably. He doesn’t feel like vomiting and his stomach doesn’t hurt, so he assumes it’s just a cold.  
  
He only has a very low grade fever, so he takes a couple of Tylenol, gulps down two huge glasses of water despite his throat’s protests, and falls back into bed. He wakes up for the second time with the buzzing of his phone on his nightstand. He feels the sheets wet with his sweat from when his fever broke and grimaces.  
  
“Hello,” he rasps into the phone, trying to sound human. Louis will be the last person he fools like that.  
  
“Harry? Hey, are you okay?” he says worriedly, and Harry manages a smile.  
  
“Fine, just a cold. How are you feeling?”  
  
“I’m fine, at your door.”  
  
Harry panics for a second. He feels and probably looks disgusting, but he quickly puts on a pair of sweats and heads downstairs. His head isn’t hurting him too much anymore as the Tylenol still runs through his system, strong. He’s started to sniffle, though, and his left nostril is completely blocked up.  
  
The look on Louis' face tells him all he needs to know about how he looks. “Oh, Hazza. Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” he says and puts his hand on his lower back, following him inside the shop. “What are you feeling?”  
  
Harry snorts. “You know what I’m feeling,” he tells him as they go up the stairs.  
  
“Yeah, your back is hurting, your throat is hurting, and you had a fever until a while ago. But it helps to talk about it, doesn’t it? Whine a bit,” he says with a small smile as Harry flops down on the couch, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain to his head.  
  
“You should’ve been a doctor,” Harry tells him, and holds tight to Louis when he sits down next to him. When he realizes what he’s doing he backs away quickly.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Don’t want you to catch whatever I have,” he explains.  
  
Louis smiles. “I never get sick, Harold. It just doesn’t happen. You can cough right into my mouth and I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Gross,” Harry says and Louis ruffles his hair.  
  
“I’ll make us some tea. Have you eaten today?”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Lou, can you feel what I’m feeling? Do you feel sick?”  
  
The way Louis swallows - hard and with a squint of his eyes - is answer enough for him. “Lou, you can’t be here.” To prove his point, Louis sniffles. “See?”  
  
“But I’m not actually sick, and my mother is a nurse so you’ll be in great care.”  
  
“Will you call her and ask her to come? Moms always makes us feel better,” Harry says and follows Louis into the kitchen, sitting and watching him make tea and rummage through his cupboards.  
  
“I would, love, but she probably has her hands full getting ready to host Christmas,” he says and before Harry knows it, he’s made him a chicken sandwich. “Eat up,” he tells him and starts cleaning up Harry's kitchen.  
  
Harry does as he’s told, washing the sandwich with tea, which he blows cold before it hurts his throat more. “I’m getting old, Lou. Can’t handle a concert without getting sick,” he whines, and Louis takes the empty plate to wash up, smiling softly at him.  
  
“I can’t be dating an old man so you better look alive, Styles,” Louis teases him and takes him back to bed. Harry lays down gratefully, and pouts when Louis leaves the room to make him a “special” tea to make him feel better.  
  
He eyes the mug suspiciously when Louis brings it back to him, and makes a face when he smells garlic. “I don’t think I want this,” he says, and Louis rolls his eyes, but sits down next to him and hides under the covers with him.  
  
“Plug your nose and down it, Harold. It’s not so bad, you’ll see. It’s got mint in it. And vinegar.”  
  
Harry, who was just about to put the mug to his lips, immediately puts it down. “What? You drink it, then!”  
  
“I’m not the one who’s sick,” he says and sniffles. Harry feels bad enough he’s putting Louis through this that he drinks it in large gulps. It tastes surprisingly good, and he falls back with a sigh.  
  
“Thanks for being here even if you feel awful too,” he tells him and Louis kisses the back of his hand.  
  
“Gotta take care of my man, don’t I?” he jokes and Harry curls up to him. Louis is rubbing his back soothingly and Harry feels sleepy again. He’s so comfortable despite his pains that he falls asleep even after being in bed all day.  
  
He wakes up to a delicious, savory smell of meat cooking. He feels better, miraculously so. He gets up, feeling just a little dizzy, and has the decency to put on some underwear under his pants and a t-shirt. He walks up to the kitchen to find Louis at his stove, tasting the soup he’s currently making.  
  
“You’re feeling better,” he states with a smile and Harry nods.  
  
“Your tea has cured me,” he says and goes to Louis. He hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Louis' shoulder. “Smells amazing, what is it?”  
  
“Just soup,” Louis says and pets Harry's arm around his waist. “Hungry?”  
  
“Starving,” Harry admits, and insists on helping Louis by at least setting the table for them. He’s shoved into his seat and Louis places the steaming pot at the center of the table.  
  
“Nothing like hot soup to get all the snot out,” he tells him and Harry chuckles.  
  
“Do you want me to eat in the living room?” he asks as they’re sitting face to face.  
  
Louis waves a hand at him. “I can handle it, just don’t expect eye to eye conversation,” he adds.  
  
Harry brings the spoon to his mouth and his eyes open in amazement at how good it tastes. He takes a couple more spoonfuls, enjoying the perfectly seasoned meat and the tender, soft vegetables. “Holy shit, this is amazing,” he tells Louis. “Didn’t take you for a cook.”  
  
Louis can’t look more proud of what he’s done. “Didn’t take you for a non believer either. I have many skills you don’t know about, Harold,” he tells him with a raise of an eyebrow, making Harry giggle and flush red with the innuendo.  
  
They fall into comfortable silence, only interrupted by a series of very loud sneezes from Harry. He feels awful when Louis starts to dab at his own nose, as if he was the one to have done it. Harry takes it upon himself to wash the dishes, even under intense protest from Louis.  
  
“Sit down in the living room and stop sniffling, enjoy your time away from me,” Harry shoos him out. When Louis is gone, he takes a painkiller for his back. It’s screaming at him for laying down so much, and he doesn’t know the extent to which Louis feels his pain, but he wants to lessen it as much as possible so that Louis doesn’t suffer any more than he has to around him.  
  
“Want to lay down for your back?” is the first thing Louis asks him when he comes into the living room.  
  
“Fuck, are you a mind reader or something?”  
  
“Yes, and right now you’re thinking ‘Louis is so hot I want to marry him and have a dozen babies’”, he teases and Harry sits down next to him with a grimace. “Just observant, love. Come, let’s go to the bed so I can help you feel better,” Louis says, getting up.  
  
Harry feels his face getting red again. “I- I don’t think I’m in the mood for... You know. Sorry,” he adds quickly, afraid he’ll hurt Louis' feelings by rejecting his advances.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes at him. “What kind of man do you take me for, you pervert? I’m going to massage your back to make you feel better,” he says with a chuckle.  
  
“Oh, I see,” Harry says and follows him. Louis instructs him to lay down on his stomach, arms resting next to his torso. “Don’t I need my shirt off?” he asks Louis, who sits next to him and dramatically cracks his fingers.  
  
“Told you it’s not that kind of massage,” Louis says, playfully slapping his arm.  
  
“You’re not gonna oil me up and- argh!” he almost screams when Louis presses his fingers down exactly where it hurts the most. Harry turns his head sideways to look at him and sees his face contorted in pain. “Did you feel that?”  
  
“You mean your incredibly painful lower back? Yeah,” he says and Harry has to bite his lips when Louis slides his fingers along his spine, pressing down firmly.  
  
It hurts, a lot. For a good five minutes, Harry is this close to asking Louis so stop, not only because he can’t handle it, but because Louis is in pain because of him. “Are you okay?”  
  
Louis chuckles. “I’m fine, are you?”  
  
Harry nods. The pains starts to lessen more and more as Louis moves his finger expertly on his sore muscles. He feels better, the painful knots in his muscles easing with the perfect pressure Louis is putting on them. “You’re good at this.”  
  
“I feel it on myself so I know exactly what to do,” Louis tells him, and Harry hums in agreement. He feels Louis slowly and steadily ease down the pressure he’s making, until he’s only gently running his fingers along Harry’s back. He lifts his shirt a bit, and Harry feels his soft fingers on his skin.  
  
“Are you feeling better?” Louis asks him, and Harry rolls on his back, feeling so little pain he can hardly believe it. Louis is too good to him, feeling awful himself just to take care of Harry.  
  
“That felt amazing,” he confesses and Louis smiles.  
  
“Good. Not the happy ending you were hoping for, but not bad, huh?” he teases.  
  
“You’re not going to blow me now? I thought this was how it ended,” Harry fake pouts and Louis laughs out loud, laying down beside him.  
  
“I’m just glad you put some underwear on, that _thing_ was staring at me the whole time I was here,” Louis says, pointing at Harry's crotch. “Don’t you know grey sweats are the equivalent of the male cleavage?”  
  
Harry barks out a laugh, feeling as embarrassed as he is amused. “Didn’t work on you, though,” he says and Louis turns to face him.  
  
“I like to play hard to catch,” he jokes and pecks Harry on the lips, soft and tender. “I’m happy you’re feeling better. You need to be all good for the holidays.”  
  
Harry’s smile falters and Louis is quick to notice it. “What?”  
  
“Nothing, it’s just that I’m not going home for Christmas this year,” he says, twisting the edge of the blanket in his hands.  
  
“Why not? Christmas is smack dab in the middle of the weekend this year.”  
  
“Gemma is spending it with her boyfriend and mom and Robin are going on a cruise,” he explains with a shrug.  
  
“What?” Louis supports himself on his elbow, looking incredulously at Harry. “Who goes on a cruise for the holidays? That’s a terrible idea, didn’t they watch Skipping Christmas?”  
  
“What if I told you that’s exactly where they got the idea from?” Harry says, his lips curling up into a smile.  
  
Louis is biting at his own lips, looking thoughtful. “What are your plans, then?”  
  
“I don’t know. Stay here, I guess. Watch Christmas movies and get drunk on eggnog.”  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Nope, that won’t do. You won’t be spending Christmas alone. You’re coming back home with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm leaving the links here for my main sources when researching for the fic in case you want to know more about it! I've found some things throught Google but a great place to start is with this [podcast](https://www.npr.org/player/embed/382517111/382517113). It's from NPR and it's called Invisibilia. My next suggestion is the [book](https://www.amazon.com/Mirror-Touch-Notes-Doctor-Feel/dp/0062458663) by Joel Salinas.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for reading this far! I had to add another chapter because I wasn't totally happy with how things turned out, so there will be nine chapters in total now, just to let you know!
> 
> Enjoy your reading!

“Stop laughing, Lou. It’s not funny,” Harry says, a little annoyed. He’s got seventeen tabs open on his computer, and Louis is chuckling behind him. “I have three hours to shop for your entire family if I have any hope of their presents getting here by Friday. And I still have to wrap them when they get here,” he says, holding his face in his hands.   
  
“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to buy a present for anyone? Nobody expects you to,” Louis says, amused. He twirls Harry's chair around so that he’s facing him.  
  
“I’m not showing up at your house uninvited _and_ empty handed,” he says as if Louis is out of his mind for suggesting such a thing.   
  
“First, you are very much invited. I’m not even sure how to describe the sound my mom made when I told her I’d bring a guest.”   
  
“A distressed wail? That she now has one extra person in her house, that she hasn’t even met yet?” Harry says and rubs his eyes with his hands.   
  
“She’s simply too excited that I’m bringing home a boyfriend,” Louis says and kisses Harry briefly.   
  
Harry smiles into the kiss. He can’t believe he gets to call Louis his boyfriend now. Can’t believe Louis chose him. In spite of everything, he _chose_ Harry. He smiles warmly when Louis slowly sits down on his lap, adjusting his legs on each side of Harry's waist.   
  
“Seriously, H. You don’t have to empty your bank account with presents for them,” he says, kissing him softly.   
  
“I have to at least buy your mom something. And the baby twins,” Harry adds. “And also, it would be very rude to buy the twins something and nothing for your other siblings. And how would Dan feel when he was the only one not getting anything?”   
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine, we’ll get them something. Let’s go tomorrow night, yeah? The shops are open until late and we can browse for presents and give them together, from the both of us,” he suggests, pushing Harry's hair back from his face.   
  
“You haven’t bought their presents yet?” Harry asks, voice coming in a high pitch with how incredulous he is. “It’s the week before Christmas, Lou! My Christmas shopping for my family has been done for weeks now.”  
  
“Stop acting like I’m a criminal for it,” Louis says and kisses Harry before he can say anything else. Harry thinks he has a very strong argument, and puts his hand on the nape of Louis' neck to bring him closer.  
  
He hears the chair creak and opens his eyes, pursed lips frozen. “This is a very old chair, maybe we should sit somewhere else,” he says, and moves to push Louis off his lap.  
  
“Are you calling me fat?” Louis asks, standing up and putting his hands on his hip.   
  
It’s Harry's turn to roll his eyes. “You drama queen,” he mutters and Louis breaks into a smile. He follows him to the kitchen, where he puts the kettle on for some tea. Harry loves the way Louis makes him tea, gets it right every single time.  
  
“I’m so anxious about meeting your family,” Harry tells him when they sit down on the couch to drink their perfectly scalding mugs of tea. It’s bitterly cold out and Harry can’t think of a better place to be, cozied up inside with his boyfriend. He still can’t quite wrap his head around it.  
  
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed. I haven’t felt my stomach in knots this whole weekend,” Louis says, nonchalantly.   
  
“Sorry,” Harry whispers. He hates that Louis can feel every little thing, and that he has to go through Harry's anxiety in a way he doesn’t deserve it.   
  
“Never apologize for your feelings, H,” Louis tells him and squeezes his hand. It’s warm from holding the mug and Harry doesn’t let him go. “I’m just messing with you, I’d be nervous as well. But nobody has invited me to go on a cruise to meet their parents, so,” he teases and Harry laughs.   
  
“Told you it’s like their honeymoon,” Harry says and puts his empty mug on the coffee table, snuggling up closer to Louis. Louis holds out his arm so Harry can fit under it, and Harry closes his eyes with a sigh.   
  
He feels Louis bring his nose to his hair and smiles. “You smell nice,” Louis says, soft.   
  
“You do, too,” Harry tells him. Louis' jumper smells of fabric softener and a hint of his cologne. He wraps his arms around Louis' waist tighter, and they just sit in silence for a while.   
  
Harry loves that they don’t spend a lot of time watching TV when they hang out. Instead, they talk all the time, both chatterboxes that always have something to say. And then there are times like this when they’re perfectly happy being around each other without having to say much.  
   
The next evening they go out to buy presents. Louis manages to convince Harry that his sisters would love anything from his store and offers to buy them from him. Harry thinks it would only show them he’s cheap, and Louis argues it actually shows him being financially smart. After some arguing, Harry agrees with Louis. They spend a good hour choosing between the most gorgeous pieces Harry has that young teenage girls would like. Harry still needs to dye one shirt a darker color, but all in all they’re set.  
  
They leave the shop to go downtown to buy the rest of the presents because both of them refuse to give the toddlers clothes. It would be too cruel to do so. Harry has the time of his life. He’s always liked browsing stores for presents to his loved ones, but Louis makes it even better, as he does with all things.   
  
They walk around, arms locked together, admiring the lights and decorations, and enjoying each other’s company. They find a gorgeous watch for Dan, and Harry is thankful they’re splitting the cost.   
  
“Are the twins like, hum-” Harry thinks of how he can better express his concern. “Are they raised very much like, he’s a boy with boy toys and she’s a girl with girl toys?”  
  
Louis grins. “Not at all. They play with whatever they want, but the truth is they both play more with girl toys because of the sheer amount of them in my house. We don’t have to worry about that.”  
  
Harry smiles. He loves Louis' mom already. They go to a toy store and have more fun than two adults should have in one. Louis presses every single button on the speaking toys and runs, leaving a very red Harry behind.   
  
They buy the twins a very nice painting set, a mat that can only be drawn on with a special marker (loaded with water so nobody has to worry about clean up) and half a dozen of sticker books. Harry thinks they’ll be happy with their loot.   
  
They’re waiting in the gigantic line to pay, and Harry is not even bothered. He’s watching a family a few steps in front of them with a baby in a sling and an older boy bursting with energy, hopping in place. He smiles to himself because he seems like a pest and Harry knows their parents must have their hands full.  
  
Louis is watching them, too. “A troublemaker, that one,” he points out, nodding towards the little boy, but he’s smiling. Harry turns to watch him again, and feels heat coming up his spine with the scene unfolding before him.   
  
The boy holds the edges of the counter, pulling his body up so he can look over it. One second he’s grabbing it tightly, the next he’s lost his grip and is falling backwards. The father tries to hold him, but he slips and falls, his head hitting the floor with a dull sound Harry can hear, several steps behind him.   
  
His heart is beating fast in his chest, a horrible moment of silence before he boy starts crying, positively wailing in pain. But crying is good, crying is wonderful because it means he’s not unconscious. The father immediately scoops him up, and they all leave the store with the boy crying his eyes out, but no further damage seems to have been done.   
  
“I hope they’re taking him to a hospital, you can never be too careful with head hitting,” Harry says and turns to look at Louis, only to find him on his knees, holding the back of his head with his hands. “Louis!”  
  
He kneels down next to him, holding him close. “Lou, what’s wrong?” He realizes what’s happening as soon as he says it. “Oh, Lou. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers soothingly into his ear.   
  
“Is the boy okay?” Louis says through gritted teeth, looking up at Harry and at the people in line staring at them. “Fuck, it hurts,” he whines and Harry feels his heart squeezing in his chest.   
  
“He’s fine, his parents got him. It’ll go away soon, just breathe with me, yeah?” Harry tells him without no clue as to how long it’ll actually take Louis to stop feeling pain.   
  
With a groan, Louis stands back up and Harry steadies him. “Better?” he asks, eyes full of worry.   
  
Louis nods. “It’s fading away now. I think it’s better if you breathe with _me_. I’m fine, love, no need to worry about me this much. I’m not actually hurt.”  
  
“But you feel hurt,” Harry adds, and doesn’t let go of him for a second until they finish their purchase and Harry calls it a night. They can look for something for Jay tomorrow.   
  
They’re saying goodbye at the gate of the store and Harry still can’t shake the feeling of unease that has crept into his stomach. Louis is fine, he knows that, but seeing him in such distress has left him shaken.   
  
“Harold, I’m fine,” Louis assures him for the thousandth time. “I don’t feel a thing now, except how worried you are. You don’t have to be,” he holds Harry's face him in his hands and kisses him. Harry sighs, comforted by the kiss. He hugs Louis, burying his face into his neck, breathing in deep.   
  
“I can’t help it, I’m sorry.”  
  
“What did I tell you about apologizing for your feelings?” Louis pulls Harry's face away from him to look him in the eye. “Silly boy,” he says and kisses him softly again.   
  
“Are you okay to drive?” Harry asks when he starts walking to his car.   
  
“Never been better,” Louis tells him and gets in the car. Harry leans down to kiss him through the window.   
  
“Call me when you get home.”  
  
“Will do. Night, Styles,” he says and closes the window to keep the heat inside the car.   
  
                                                                                 ~X~          
  
Harry is a mess. It’s Friday evening, Louis is picking him up at seven the next day and Harry has _just_ found out it’s Louis' birthday tomorrow. Harry would’ve strangled him if he hadn’t broken the news over the phone while they were setting things up for the next day.   
  
He’d casually mentioned he suspected his sisters were baking him a cake, and Harry had completely freaked out when he found out why. Despite Louis' insistence he doesn’t need a present – they’d agreed they wouldn’t exchange gifts - Harry is not having it.   
  
He texts the owner of the crafts store near his shop, with whom he has developed quite a nice friendship, albeit very casual and restricted to working hours, and eventually calls him when he doesn’t text back.   
  
Harry begs him for a favor, and since he also lives near his own shop, that’s how Harry finds himself in a crafts store at nine o’clock in the evening. He buys the things he needs fast, not wanting to disturb the owner more than he has to.   
  
He comes home, wraps Louis' gift as neatly as he can, and starts cooking. It’s past one in the morning when he finally crawls into bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. He tosses and turns, anxiety a ball of lead in his stomach.   
  
When Louis arrives at his place only five minutes late, Harry has been up for a couple of hours already. He barely gives Louis enough time to step out of the car before he grabs him in a fierce hug, swaying them side to side.   
  
“Happy birthday, Lou!” he tells him happily, and Louis giggles at Harry's excitement. “Happy, happy birthday,” he tells him again and kisses him. Louis laughs into the kiss and Harry feels warm despite the brutally cold breeze.  
  
“Thank you, thank you,” he tells him, and locks the car so they can get into Harry's toasty flat. He’s carrying a flat, wrapped present in his hands that Harry doesn’t remember buying for any of Louis' family members. “Somebody is excited today,” he says and Harry grins.   
  
“I can’t help it, it’s your birthday, I’m meeting your family and it’s Christmas Eve. How could I not be excited?” he tells him, and they climb the stairs to Harry's flat.   
  
There is a pile of presents on his couch, which he was responsible for wrapping, and Louis' sits atop of it. He’s reaching for it when Louis taps him on the shoulder. “I’ve got a present for you,” he tells him and Harry opens his lips in surprise. “I know we’d agreed not to, but I’ve been working on it on and off for months now, and I wanted you to have it,” he says and hands Harry the gift in his hands.   
  
Harry immediately recognizes what it is, a painting canvas. Without saying anything, he opens it carefully and gasps. It’s a beautiful piece, countless shades and hues of green explode out of the painting in beautiful twists and twirls. “Lou, that’s amazing. What is it?” he asks, eager to know the song behind it.   
  
“It’s you,” Louis explains. “How you sound to me,” he points to the painting. “This is how you sound when you’re sleepy in the morning, this is you singing,” his fingers run along a bright, curved line. “This is the sound of you whistling when you’re working around the shop. This when you’re talking about something you’re really excited about. This is how you sound when you say my name when we’re kissing, and this is how you laugh.”  
  
Harry is stunned into silence. He’s holding the frame of the painting with a tight grip, and his throat feels even tighter. How can he even being to tell his this is simply the best present he’s ever gotten?  
  
“You like it,” Louis says with a proud smile. “I can feel you like it.”  
  
“Lou, this is- I’m…Wow,” is what he ends up saying and Louis laughs.   
  
“You’re welcome,” he says and giggles when Harry carefully lays the painting on the couch and hugs him, clinging to Louis for a very long time.   
  
“Thank you, you have no idea how much I love it.”  
  
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Louis teases and brushes Harry's hair off his face. “Let’s get going, yeah?”  
  
“Not until you open your present,” Harry tells him and shushes Louis before he can protest. Louis barks out a laugh when he sees the shape of Harry's present for him, an obvious canvas, almost exactly as big as the one he’s just gifted Harry with.   
  
Along with it he gets new brushes and a whole set of oil paint, which he knows has cost Harry an arm and a leg. Louis gives him a proper snog to thank him, and Harry is left dizzy when Louis pulls away.   
  
“Let’s get going, it’s kind of a long drive,” Louis tells him and Harry grabs his overnight bag.  
  
“Help me with the food,” Harry tells him, handing him two huge Tupperware containers full of desserts.   
  
“Oh my God, what is this?” Louis asks, taking them from Harry's hand.  
  
“Mince pies and Scottish shortbread,” Harry explains, grabbing all the presents and rushing them out the door. “I’m best with baking and your sisters are already making you a cake. Do you think these will do?”  
  
“You’re out of your mind, Harold. My mother is going to love you,” he adds with a wicked grin.   
  
“All I’m hoping for in life,” Harry says and he’s only partially joking.   
  
The drive is a little long on the icy roads, but Harry doesn’t feel bored at all. The radio is on, he’s warm and comfortable and he’s with Louis. He can stay in the car for days and not mind it. His anxiety has calmed down a bit now that everything is set and there’s nothing more he can do but wait.   
  
“We’re almost there,” Louis tells him, and Harry feels a ball of heat coming up his spine. “Don’t need to feel nervous, love. We’re bringing presents and food, we couldn’t have a better scenario for this.”  
  
“I know, I’m being silly. It’s just that I,-” he pauses and looks down. “I’ve never met somebody’s parents before.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Louis doesn’t sound judgmental, and he’s looking at the road rather than Harry.   
  
“I’ve only had one proper boyfriend, and he had been my friend for years before so I already knew his whole family,” Harry explains. They turn a corner and Harry holds his breath. He doesn’t know exactly which house it is, but when Louis parks his car in front of an elegant, red brick house he starts to take deep breaths. He hates being like this sometimes, but Louis is quick to put a hand on his back and guide him to the front door.   
  
Harry hears them before the door opens. A clatter of feet, some shushing, some giggling, and then the door swings open before they can even knock. In front of him stand four overly excited girls, and Harry smiles. They look so much friendlier than the pics he’s seen of them, all posed for social media. They’re still little girls, and Harry realizes he can handle them.   
  
“Louis!” One of the twins shrieks and she’s the first to hug him, followed by all of the others. Harry stands to the side, grinning and watching Louis kiss and hug each of his sisters individually, and he seems happier than ever. They all wish him a happy birthday and hint very clearly that they have a present for him. “Let us in, come on. It’s freezing here,” he says and they part so they can walk in.   
  
“Dan, Louis and his boyfriend are here!” the oldest yells into the house.   
  
“I’m sure he’s heard us,” Louis mocks. “Where’s mom?”  
  
“At the shops with the twins, they were being impossible cooped up inside. She’ll be right back, she just went to pick up some eggnog. We didn’t know if Harry drank or not,” one of the twins – Daisy, Harry thinks - explains.   
  
They all look expectantly at them, and Louis puts his hand around Harry's waist. “Girls, this is Harry. Harry, these are my obnoxious little sisters.”  
  
“Hello,” Harry tells them with a tentative smile. Next thing he knows, he’s the one being mobbed, all of them saying hi and guiding him to the living room. He doesn’t know who he should be paying attention to, all trying to capture his attention at once. He makes a mental note of the twins’ outfits so he can tell them apart with no mistake.   
  
The living room is small for a family this big, and there are mismatched armchairs and pillows. It’s also the most welcoming place Harry has been to, and it reminds him both of his own home and The Burrow from Harry Potter.

“I can’t believe my dumb brother has a boyfriend,” Lottie tells him, after insisting he calls her that.  
  
Before any of them can say anything, a male voice speaks from behind them.   
  
“Hey, lads.”  
  
Harry turns around and sees Dan, more handsome than pictures do him justice. Louis immediately goes to greet him, hugging him tight and smiling through his greetings. Harry stands up as well and shakes Dan’s hand, who seems to be all smiles around them. He holds Louis' face in his hands when he wishes him the best of birthdays.  
  
“Thank you so much for having me in your home,” Harry tells him, and Dan smiles brightly at him.   
  
“It’s our pleasure to have you here,” he says and squeezes Harry's shoulder. “You’re our guest of honor this weekend.”  
  
Harry smiles and looks down. He can’t remember why he felt so nervous about coming in the first place. When the front door opens behind him, he remembers.   
  
“Ernie, honey, your boots,” he hears a woman’s voice and he slowly turns to find Louis' mom helping an excited toddler out of his mud covered boots. Another little girl is looking up at Harry with big, curious eyes.   
  
Jay is carrying two bags of groceries that look pretty heavy, and before Harry can think about it too much, he’s taken the few steps between them and is carrying them for her.   
  
“Let me help you with those,” he tells her, and when she looks up at him Harry catches his breath with the resemblance between her and Louis. Her eyes have the same kindness in them, and she’s smiling softly at him.   
  
“Thank you, love. You must be Harry,” she tells him and he awkwardly nods.   
  
Screaming fills the room when the twins finally notice Louis and run up to him, grabbing his legs before he bends down to kiss and snuggle each of them. “Achoo,” Doris says, and Harry knows they call him that, but seeing it makes him smile. Harry watches the scene fondly, seeing how much all of his siblings truly love him.   
  
When he turns his attention back to Jay she’s watching him, smile still bright. “It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for letting me stay in such short notice,” he says, politely.   
  
“We couldn’t wait to meet you, sweetheart. You’re all Louis talks about,” she says and Harry hears Louis makes a noise coming up next to him.   
  
“Quit with the slander, mom,” he says and they hug so tightly Harry feels like he’s interrupting them just by standing there. He can hear her whisper something in Louis' ear, so he turns to the twins so he can give them privacy. Dan gets the groceries from his hands and he kneels on one leg to greet the twins.   
  
“Hello, I’m Harry. It’s very nice to meet you.”  
  
Doris is the first one to go to him and shake his hand. She doesn’t say anything, but smiles shyly at him. Ernest is more suspicious and doesn’t come near him, clinging to Louis' leg instead. They’re both so adorable Harry wants to squeeze them. He hopes Ernest will warm up to him soon.  
  
“Oh, we have food in the car!” Louis exclaims when his sisters come up to meet them. “Harry made us all delicious treats,” he announces proudly and tosses the car keys to Phoebe, who is the first one to get to the door. “There might be some presents in there as well,” he adds and they giggle before going out in a herd.   
  
“Come on in, love,” Jay tells him, and they all go into the kitchen. It’s small and a little cramped, just like the rest of the house seems to be, but it’s warm and cozy and Harry feels right at home sitting at the table next to Jay when Louis is fixing them all some tea.   
  
Dan is putting away the groceries, and Harry has a glimpse of the inside of the fridge. It’s stocked for a crowd. Louis' sisters join them and Harry smiles when both Doris and Ernie sit on Louis' lap, one on each of his legs. He’s listening intently to what they’re saying, and their little voices speaking so posh make Harry grin.   
  
They all eat the shortbread Harry has baked, and he beams when Jay asks him for the recipe and actually writes it down as he tries to remember the exact amount of the ingredients he’s used.   
  
“So can I trust you to help me with the food for tonight?” she asks and Harry nods excitedly. It’s one of his favorite parts of the holiday, helping his mom cook. It eases his heart a bit to have the opportunity to do it in Louis' home, with his family. “We are all in charge of different things for Christmas supper and I feel short-handed in the kitchen sometimes.”  
  
“I help you,” Louis chimes in.  
  
“For ten minutes, then you’re off,” she tells him and Louis shrugs his shoulders, admitting defeat. He’s sitting far from Harry, on the other side of the long table, and winks at Harry before giving Fizzy his full attention back.   
  
“Louis told me you like to wear nail polish,” Lottie asks Harry when they sit down in the living room. The presents they brought are under the tree, along with the small pile from Louis' family. Dan, Jay and Louis are in the kitchen fixing a quick lunch while Harry makes himself at home, at Jay’s insistence.   
  
“Yeah,” he admits, looking at his pink stained cuticles. He’d removed the nail polish the day before coming. He knows it’s silly to think Louis' family would think any less of him because of it – suspicious clearly confirmed after he’s actually met them – but he didn’t want to take that risk.   
  
“Have you seen the new Dior collection?” she asks excitedly. “The spring colors are so pretty, I think you’ll love it.”  
  
Harry grins. “I don’t follow the seasonal colors, to be honest,” he says sheepishly and it’s her turn to grin.  
  
“I don’t, either. Do you wanna see the ones I have?’  
  
And this is how Harry finds himself in a teenage girl room, chatting with four girls about what life is like in London, the clothes he sells and going through the older girls’ make up to see their lipsticks. He’s surprised they haven’t started working on doing his hair and face, and he wouldn’t be completely against it. They’re absolutely lovely.   
  
He has a very intelligent discussion with Fizzy about the homeless situation in London, and finds out he has a very similar taste in music as the twins. He takes it as a compliment.   
  
They eat an early lunch, and Harry is surprised this many people can fit in such a small kitchen. He’s startled when he feels a hand on his leg and little Ernie is standing next to him, already done with his food.   
  
“Hey, little guy,” Harry tells him softly. “What’s that?” he points at the small fire truck in Ernie’s hand. The boy is still silent, but hands him the truck. “Is that a Christmas present for me? You didn’t have to,” he says and accepts the truck Ernie is giving him. The little boy shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “What? Not a present for me? I’ll keep it safe for you, then.”  
  
The boy giggles when Harry places it right next to his plate, and keeps it there for the rest of the meal. He grins when Ernie starts up a conversation with him about trucks, quickly joined by Doris, who is just as enthusiastic about it as her brother.   
  
“Now, who wants to play a round of footie?” Louis announces after the dishes are washed and put away. It’s a lot of dishes.   
  
Everyone seems excited at the prospect and they all rush into the backyard to play, including Dan. The silence that suddenly fills the now empty kitchen, except for Harry and Jay, makes Harry realize how _loud_ the house is.    
  
“Aren’t you going to join them?” Jay asks, and Harry shakes his head.   
  
“I believe I was assigned as the sous chef.”  
  
She smiles at that. “Let’s get to work, then,” she tells him and hands him an apron. It reads ‘kiss the cook’, and she does, giving him a small peck on the cheek that makes him blush. “Don’t tell Dan I gave you this apron, he’ll be jealous that you look just as good as he does in it,” she teases and Harry laughs. He understands where Louis got his humor from.   
  
Just as it is in his own home, he’s in charge of slicing, dicing and chopping almost everything. They’re having a big roast, and Harry has peeled more potatoes in one hour than he has the entire year. They slice carrots, chop onions and garlic, and through all of this there isn’t a moment of silence.   
  
Harry finds that he can talk to Louis' mom as much as he can with Louis himself, and when Louis comes in for a glass of water and pecks Harry on the lips as he walks by him, Harry sees that Louis knows it, too. Of course he does.   
  
“Getting along well, are we?” he teases and Harry and Jay share a look. “Now, mom, please don’t tell me you’re replacing me with him because your other children love me too much to allow it.”  
  
“I don’t know, him and Lottie seemed to be getting along just fine,” Jay teases and Louis squints at her.   
  
“I am your first born, woman,” he throws his hands up in the air.  
  
“I can always fit one more son into my life,” she says and looks fondly at Harry. He smiles at her, feeling all fuzzy inside. “Besides, _first born_ , I don’t see you helping with all the cooking.”

“I’m in charge of dishes, and that’s my cue,” he says and pecks Harry again before going back to the yard. They watch him through the window, see him pick Doris up and throw her over his shoulder as she squeals in delight.   
  
“He’s wonderful, Jay,” Harry tells her, and watches her face melt into a smile.   
  
“Thanks, darling. How are you handling his synesthesia?”  
  
“Well, I think. It’s scary, sometimes,” he admits and she nods.   
  
“He feels too much in this world, and I can’t protect him from it. I’m happy he found someone to be with him,” she says and Harry stands to be next to her. She puts her arm around his waist and he wraps her in a hug, the first they’ve shared. “Thank you.”  
  
“Thank you for making him,” he says and she chuckles, pulling away.   
  
“You’re a gorgeous, nice boy. I can see why he chose you.”  
  
Harry looks down, feeling a blush creep on his cheeks. He can easily see himself fitting right into this family.   
  
They have dinner a little earlier than Harry is used to on Christmas Eve, and he soon understands why. When they’re all seated back in the living room, the twins come from the kitchen, helping Jay with a huge tray of iced cake. It’s got a candle on it and the entire room sings Louis a happy birthday. He’s smiling throughout all of it, beaming to be around his people on his birthday. He blows on the candle and they all clap.   
  
Dan and Phoebe take it back to the kitchen and come back with plastic plates with huge slices for everybody. It tastes delicious and homemade, and Harry couldn’t feel happier if he tried. He and Louis are squeezed together in a big, old yellow armchair. They’re the closest to the fire, and he feels cozy and warm and welcome.   
  
They give him his present, a Kindle that will allow him to read more books without spending as much or going to the library all the time.   
  
“I better get started on those dishes, they’re not gonna wash themselves,” Louis says with a sigh and a slap to his knees. He and Harry have spent the last twenty minutes fiddling with the Kindle to get the hang of it, and he hands it to Harry. Before he can get up Fizzy and Lottie stop him.   
  
“We’ll do the dishes, you spend more time with Harry,” they tell him, and Fizzy squeezes Harry’s shoulder as they walk by him.   
  
It’s a little after nine o’clock and the baby twins are getting sleepy. Jay announces it’s time to open one present each. They all share a conspiratory look and Harry is lost. “What?”  
  
“It’s our tradition,” Jay explains to him as she walks to the pile of presents. Some are all wrapped with the same paper, and she and Dan start getting them. “We open one present the night before Christmas, and they’re all looking at me like that because they all know what’s coming.”  
  
The toddlers are the ones to get theirs first, and they tear open the paper and make happy little noises with what it’s revealed. A pair of identical Christmas pajamas, brown and with small cartoon reindeers printed all over them. It’s the cutest thing Harry has ever seen, and Ernie is already pulling at his clothes to get them off.   
  
They are dressed quickly, and then it’s the older twins’ turn. They also get the exact same pair of pajamas, and Harry finally understands. They’re all matching. Fizzy and Lottie get theirs and they all disappear to put them on as well.   
  
Harry gapes when Jay comes to them with not only one, but two presents in her hands. “There you go, love,” she tells him. Harry stares at the present in his hand.  
  
“I get one, too?” he asks, dumbfounded.   
  
“Of course you do,” she says, frowning as if Harry is being crazy for not thinking he would.   
  
“Thank you,” he whispers, and unwraps it. It’s soft and heavy in his hands, a good winter pair.   
  
“Let’s change into them, huh?” Louis suggests and they go up the stairs into Louis' tiny childhood bedroom. He closes the door after them and turns to Harry with a smile. “What do you think of the day so far? I know my family is a lot.”  
  
“Lou, they’re amazing,” he says and starts to copy Louis and undresses himself. The air in the room is chilly and he quickly puts on his new pajamas. They’re soft and comfortable and Harry feels like home. Louis and his family feel like home.   
  
“I’m happy you like them, because they loved you,” Louis says and comes closer to Harry, circling Harry's waist with his arms and swinging them from side to side.   
  
“Oh yeah?” Harry asks, kissing him softly.  
  
Louis nods. “They were telling me I should marry you because you’re the only one who can put up with me.”  
  
“That’s not true, Liam and Niall put up with you, too,” Harry teases. When he goes to kiss him again, Louis pulls his face away.   
  
“Oh, so you’d rather have me marry one of them, is that it? Because Niall isn’t as straight as he looks, I can seduce him,” Louis jokes and Harry laughs, pulling him in.   
  
“Thank you for inviting me,” he says and Louis smiles.   
  
“Thank you for charming my whole family,” he says and takes Harry’s hand. “Let’s go back downstairs, yeah?”  
  
They spend the rest of the evening all together in the living room, with the exception of the little twins, who pass out a little after ten, as determined as they were to wait for Santa. They watch TV and talk, and Harry loves to be part of all of it. He doesn’t leave Louis' side for one second, and he loves to just watch the family interact.   
  
Slowly, they all trickle down back to their rooms, and only Jay, Louis and Harry are left downstairs, talking way past midnight. Harry is not only sleepy, he also wants to give Louis and his mom some time alone.

“I’m going to bed, I’m knackered,” Harry announces, and feels suddenly cold when leaving Louis' side. He gives Jay a kiss on the cheek and a quick one on Louis' lips. “Enjoy some time with your mom, okay?” he whispers in his ear before making his way up the stairs to Louis' bedroom.   
  
He gets his toiletries and washes his face and brushes his teeth in the small bathroom before jumping into Louis' small single bed. The lights are off, but the curtains aren’t drawn and the little light coming from the window is enough to allow him to see the room.  
  
He looks at the posters on Louis' wall, from bands and sports celebrities he won’t pretend to know (with the exception of David Beckham, one of his first celebrity crushes) and the stickers on his wardrobe. It’s a tiny room, and it’s packed with a lot of stuff from his sisters’, boxes and boxes of them.   
  
He sends his mom a good morning text, knowing she loves to wake up to messages from him. With the time difference, he knows it won’t be long before she replies.   
  
Sleep catches up with him soon, tired as he is. He only realizes he’s fallen asleep when he feels Louis getting into bed with him, squeezing himself behind Harry and the wall.  
  
“What time is it?” he asks, and his voice is thick and raspy.   
  
“A little after one. Go back to sleep,” Louis whispers, circling Harry's waist with his arm and snuggling closer to him. Harry tangles their legs together and smiles to himself, pleased to be the little spoon. “You’re so warm,” Louis whispers, and Harry feels the tip of his cold nose against the nape of his neck.   
  
Before he can protest, his eyes are already closed and he’s breathing softly and deeply. When he opens them again, it’s to soft little hands on his face and giggling.   
  
“Let him sleep,” he hears Louis speak, and when his eyes get into focus he sees Doris and Ernie standing next to him in bed.   
  
“Wake up, Harry. Let’s open presents,” Doris tells him. He looks up and sees Louis with a steaming mug in his hand, smiling at them.  
  
Harry pulls both twins to him, half sitting up in bed. They pile easily onto him. “Did Santa come?”   
  
The twins’ eyes light up and both nod, speaking over each other.   
  
“He did! He left us presents, come down and look!” Ernie says and stands up, pulling at Harry's hand to follow him.   
  
“Harry is coming in a minute, love. Let him wake up first and we’ll all come downstairs,” Louis stops him. “Go help mom with breakfast,” he tells them.   
  
“But-”   
  
“We’ll be down in a minute, yeah?” Louis insists and just as he speaks, Daisy walks past their door and the twins follow her. He walks up to Harry. “Have I told you how good you look in these pajamas? Nobody should look hot in them, and yet,” he gestures towards Harry, eyeing him up and down.   
  
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Harry tells him and gets the tea from his hand, sipping it.   
  
“How did you sleep?” Louis asks him, holding him and resting his head against his chest.   
  
“Very well, actually. First time we slept in the same bed and I thoroughly enjoyed it,” he tells him, taking another sip.   
  
“And it was just as much action as this bed got in my entire teenage life,” Louis tells him and Harry chuckles. Louis pulls away and gives him a very light peck on his closed lips. “Merry Christmas.”  
  
“Merry Christmas,” Harry tells him and yawns. Louis yawns back and they smile to each other.   
  
“I’ll brush my teeth and go downstairs, yeah? Don’t want to delay the present opening business,” he tells him and Louis nods. He gives Harry a playful slap on his butt when he walks past and Harry laughs. He meets Dan in the hallway and they say their good mornings before Harry uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth.   
  
He gets his phone, opens the message from his mom and promises to call her in a couple of hours.  
He meets them downstairs and greets the entire family with smiles, hugs and wishes of a Merry Christmas before sitting down with Louis in the same armchair as the night before.   
  
Jay comes from the kitchen with a mug of hot cocoa for him, and they drink while opening their presents. The twins get two bikes, and they all love the presents Harry and Louis bought them. Harry is on the verge of tears when he also gets a couple of presents. A nice shower gel from Dan and Jay and assorted nail polishes and a book from Louis' siblings.   
  
They eat leftovers for lunch and Harry joins them outside to play. It hasn’t snowed, which would upset him if they didn’t have to make the long drive home. It’s a beautiful day and Harry feels more and more at home as time passes and he spends more time with Louis' family.   
  
He calls his mom, as promised, and since she has good wi-fi they decide to facetime and Harry introduces her to Louis' entire family. He doesn’t get his phone back for a good twenty minutes as her and Jay talk. He can’t wait for them to meet in real life. He has a hunch they’ll be best friends.   
  
They watch Christmas movies with the kids, and they don’t change out of their pajamas until it’s time to leave.   
  
Harry feels like crying, as silly as it is, when he and Louis are standing at the door, surrounded by Louis' family. Even being boxing day the next day, Louis still has to work. He’s lucky Christmas was on a weekend and that his segment is only from Monday through Friday, or he wouldn’t even have been able to come.  
  
Harry is holding his Tupperware containers full of leftovers when Jay hugs him tight. “Come back and visit us, okay darling? No need to have Louis with you, just let us know and we’ll be waiting for you.”  
  
Harry smiles and swallows a lump in his throat. “Thanks, Jay,” he hugs her one more time and she brings her lips to his ear.  
  
“Take care of him for me, will you?” she whispers and Harry nods.   
  
He hugs the rest of Louis' family with promises to text and facetime, and the whole crew walks them to the car. They put their things in the backseat and Harry kneels to say goodbye to the twins.   
  
“You’ll come visit me in London, yeah?” They nod and Harry continues. “I’ll wait for you both,” he says and they hug him. He puts his arms under their bums and lifts them both up, making them giggle as they cling to his neck. “I think we’ve got everything now. Come on, Lou. Let’s go,” he says and pretends he’s going to sit in the car.   
  
The twins laugh and Harry puts them down slowly. Louis hugs them all one last time and they hop into the car. They shout their goodbyes as they pull away from the curb and Harry waves at them when he turns the corner.   
  
With a sigh and a smile, he turns to Louis. “I loved this weekend, Lou.”  
  
“Really? I can’t tell,” he jokes and Harry chuckles. “They loved you, too. Mom has your phone number, now. She’ll never leave you alone, she can’t help being a mom to everyone.”  
  
“Good,” Harry tells him, and adjusts himself more comfortably on the seat.   
  
They talk the whole way back, mostly about Louis' family and how good their time with them was. Harry feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and when Louis parks the car in front of his shop, he feels rested in spite of the little sleep he’s been getting.   
  
“Do you want to come inside?” he asks and Louis shakes his head.   
  
“I really, _really_ need some time alone. I’m still reeling from feeling so much in such a short period of time. I have no idea how I’m actually feeling, I need to regroup.”  
  
“Oh, sure,” Harry says, almost forgetting about Louis' trait. He does his best to hide his disappointment. He was sure Louis would spend the rest of the evening with him, maybe even sleep over. Obviously, he can’t hide it.   
  
“I’ll tell you what,” Louis says, putting a strand of Harry's hair behind his ear. “You won’t open the shop tomorrow, right? Wanna come into work with me, see the station?”  
  
Harry perks up. “Really?”  
  
“It’ll be ‘bring your boyfriend to work day’.”  
  
Harry nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that would be great.”  
  
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” Louis tells him and kisses him. It’s soft and short, and Harry can tell Louis is exhausted in more ways than he can imagine. “Good night, love.”  
  
“Good night, Lou,” Harry tells him and opens the car door, picking up his things and waving goodbye before getting in and locking the gate behind him. He makes his way upstairs slowly and jumps into the shower, forgoing the laundry and favoring his comfy bed.   
  
He misses Louis next to him, and when he opens Netflix to relax before falling asleep, he picks up his phone and finds a text from Louis.   
  
_couldnt have loved this weekend more than i did. thanks for everything  
  
_ Harry dozes off still holding his phone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading this far!  
> Just a quick warning before you read this chapter: it has smut in it, so if it's not your cup of tea you can just skip it, you won't be missing out much in regards to plot development. There is kind of an important discussion that happens before they do it, so if you want you can read it until the sentence "Isn’t it how it’s supposed to be with everybody?” and come back to reading at the very end after the sentence "Harry pulls Louis on top of him and Louis goes easily".   
> Enjoy your reading! :D

Louis is humming along with the radio as he turns around the curb. It’s a song he doesn’t recognize, but likes the colors of it. Deep dark purples and browns, streaked with yellow. He smiles when he gets closer to Harry's shop and sees him standing there, leaning against the closed metal gate with a box in one hand and his phone in the other. He looks stunning, all long legs and a beautiful black over coat worn over a pink t-shirt.

  
“Hey, cutie. Where you going? Want a ride?” he rolls down the window and asks.   
  
Harry is startled at first but breaks into a smile. “I’m just waiting for my boyfriend, but thank you,” he says as he approaches the car.   
  
“I bet I’m much better looking than he is. Come on, hop in,” he tilts his head and Harry laughs.   
  
He climbs into the car and gives Louis a soft kiss. “Cat calling from your car, Lou? What a disappointment,” he shakes his head slowly, pursed lips.   
  
“Gotta get a man someway,” he jokes and Harry chuckles. He’s feeling a little sleepy, and even though he doesn’t look as nervous as the days before when meeting Louis' family, he still looks a little anxious. “Hey, it’s just going to be pretty much you and me the whole day, yeah?”  
  
Harry nods. “I’m excited to see your work.”  
  
“Nothing too exciting about it,” Louis says with a tsk. He blesses the holiday and the light traffic because of it. “What’s that?” he looks at the box on Harry's lap.  
  
“Donuts for the people at your work,” Harry tells him excitedly. “I never have co-workers to talk to.”   
  
Louis rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’re too nice, Harold. You’re going to make me look bad. In the two years I’ve worked there the only times I brought food was when I was an intern and I never paid for it out of my own pocket.”  
  
“That’s because you don’t know how to live in society. Are you feeling better? Like yourself again?” Harry asks and Louis glances at him. Harry is genuinely worried and Louis loves him for it.   
  
“Yeah, thanks. My family can be too much sometimes. The oldest are okay, but the two sets of twins feel so much, I feel like I’m being pulled in all directions when I’m there.”  
  
“I bet you feel a lot of love coming from them as well,” Harry says, and lays his hand on Louis' thigh. It’s comforting and it makes Louis grin.   
  
“I do, so much. It’s worth the existential crisis afterwards,” he jokes and Harry chuckles.   
  
Louis loves going back home to his family, to the people he loves the most in the world. It is emotionally tiring for him, though, and he doesn’t go as often as he should. They all forgive him for it, knowing how difficult it is for him to be around so many people for longer periods of time.   
  
He still makes sure he gives them all the attention they deserve, and more often than not he ends up giving his sisters advice on various topics. He loves that they come to him for advice, and he loves to watch them grow into wonderful people.   
  
He’s particularly great with the baby twins, understanding their emotions better than most people, with the exception of his mom. Little people feel as much as big ones, and they’re still learning how to deal with overwhelming emotions in such small bodies. He understands their pain and frustration and is great at de-escalating their tantrums and tension.   
  
He was amazed at how well Harry fit into his family.   
  
They get to the building about ten minutes before Louis has to clock in. They ride the elevator holding hands, and Harry’s are just a little colder and clammier than usual. Louis gives him a reassuring smile and rests his hand on his back when they step out of it and suddenly all eyes at the reception are on them.   
  
“Good morning, everyone,” Louis tells them with a smile, and feels Harry tense next to him. “This is my boyfriend, Harry.”  
  
He sees Harry taking in the place. The dark walls, the huge logo behind the desk, and the friendly faces greeting him.   
  
“I brought donuts,” he says with a shy smile and opens the box. Louis watches him interact with the staff and stands next to him, intervening when he deems necessary. He lets them chit chat for a few minutes before pushing Harry back into the elevator to the next floor of the radio, where the studios are and most of the hosts hang out.  
  
“Better?” he asks Harry, running his hands up and down his back.   
  
“Yeah. I was surprised, that’s all.”  
  
“Surprised with what?” Louis asks, genuinely confused.   
  
Harry shrugs his shoulders. “Didn’t think you were going to introduce me as your boyfriend.”  
  
Louis walks next to Harry when they leave the elevator and stops him in the small hall before anyone can see them. “Was I not supposed to?” He is relieved when he feels Harry is not upset. Quite the opposite, in fact.   
  
“No, no. I actually thought it was very nice. I thought maybe you’d like to keep things low in your workplace.”  
  
“With you as a boyfriend? Absolutely not. I want to brag about having a hot boyfriend as much as possible, thank you.” Harry laughs and covers his mouth with his hands. “Come on, let’s introduce you to the rest of the guys. Emily is going to have a fit when she sees you. Always going on and on about how perfect her boyfriend is, when in fact he looks like a rat and hits on all the other women when she’s not looking.”  
  
Harry laughs. “Are you using me as a petty revenge?”  
  
“Not at all. But if you could flip your hair while you’re talking to her, that would be great.”  
  
The comment makes Harry cackle and Louis beams with pride. He loves to make Harry laugh, loves to know he’s the cause of that beautiful sound that sprouts fireworks from his mouth. Harry laughs so honestly, _feels_ everything so honestly and openly.  
  
The next person they meet is Liam, and Harry is visibly more relaxed when he’s introduced to people with both his friends next to him. Louis shows him around, and they sit in the empty staff room that Louis uses to do his paperwork before he gets to go on air.  
  
“This is the boring part. I help deal with sponsors and write some reviews for the website. I’m working on Ke$ha’s new album right now as part of an all-female singers series we have going on.”  
  
“Love her new album,” Harry says, sitting next to him.   
  
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Louis agrees and fires up his computer. Harry inches his chair closer to him.   
  
“How inappropriate would it be if we made out here?” Harry asks, lips close to his ear.   
  
“Not as inappropriate as doing it in the studio while the songs are playing,” Louis says and shivers when Harry chuckles and a puff of hot hair tickles his skin. His breath is a mixture of coffee and mint, and Louis feels a little weak in the knees.   
  
“I’ll save it for later, then,” Harry tells him and stands up, going out of the room to talk to Louis' co-workers and give him some space to write.  
  
Louis needs a few seconds to recompose himself. He manages to do everything he needs before it’s time for him to be on air. He calls out to Harry, who’s happily talking to Emily. She looks completely charmed and Louis feels how much she hates him for having a nice boyfriend. He grins.   
  
“Love? Let’s get into the studio, yeah?” he calls and Harry nods, pulling at his hair and throwing it behind his ears, touching his bottom right curls. Louis bites his lips not to laugh, and closes the door after them. “You actually flipped your hair, I can’t believe it.”  
  
“What my man wants, my man gets,” Harry says proudly and Louis laughs.   
  
“Come on, sit down. I’ll show you the ropes,” he gestures towards the mixing table and hands Harry a pair of headphones. “Most of these buttons are not used by me. It’s mostly this row, and this one.”  
  
Harry listens attentively to what Louis is saying, brows furrowed. “What happens if I press this button?” he jokes, index finger hovering over a big red button on the left corner.   
  
“The entire building will implode. And all the settings will go back to default mode.”  
  
“Ah, no fun,” Harry says and puts his hands back on his lap.   
  
“Come here, let’s take a picture,” Louis tells him and pulls out his phone. Harry smiles softly at him and puts his arm around his shoulder, looking at the camera and being his absolutely gorgeous self.   
  
“I look great in headphones, perhaps I should get them instead of earbuds,” Harry tells him jokingly, and squeaks when he sees Louis open the radio twitter account on his phone. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Uploading our pic,” Louis says nonchalantly.   
  
“Why?” Harry asks, his voice getting higher. Louis loves torturing him like this.   
  
“Because it’s a great picture and you’re co-hosting today. It’s okay, right?” he asks, more serious. Harry nods. “Great!”  
  
He types in: Special guest this afternoon. Co-hosting today with @LTommo is @h_styles94. Send in your requests to @theFlowRadio, #TommoOnDemand  
  
He watches the clock and tweets it, just waiting for the commercial to end and raising the volume on his microphone. “Good afternoon, my darlings. How are you all today this fine Boxing Day? Are you sick from eating too much and considering running from your family under a new alias? That’s the spirit.”  
  
He turns to Harry, who looks at him in admiration. He knows he has a different voice for the radio, and he squirms in his seat with the way Harry is looking at him. He’s grinning madly, feeling as happy and excited as Louis is.   
  
“We have one more person with us in the studio today. Harold, do you want to say hi to the listeners?”  
  
Harry gapes at him, and Louis points to the microphone right in front of Harry's face. Harry stays silent and Louis chuckles. “Are you having performance anxiety, Harold? Come on, I had really high hopes for you.”  
  
Harry laughs, and Louis smiles at him. “Hi, Harold here,” Harry says and Louis nods, encouraging him to continue. “How are you today? Please call with requests.”  
  
Louis sees the red light on his board signaling a caller. He smiles. “That was our very eloquent guest, so please do as he says because who can resist that deep voice? We have our first caller of the day. Who is it?”  
  
He presses the button next to the light and he hears a click when the line connects.  
  
_“Hi, this is Christine.”  
_  
“Good afternoon, Christine. How was your holiday weekend? Working today?”  
  
_“It was good, now I’m just at home, studying.”  
_  
“Good girl. What soundtrack should accompany you in your studies, darling?”  
  
_“Uhm, can you play Want You Back by HAIM?”  
_  
“I absolutely can. This is HAIM,” Louis says and turns off his mic, his fingers expertly finding the song as he announced it. He looks at Harry, who is grinning at him.   
  
“You look so sexy like this,” he tells him and Louis giggles, avoiding eye contact. Harry looks honestly turned on and Louis feels it intensely.   
  
“What if the mic was on, Harold? You can’t just say things like this in a studio.”  
  
“I was this close to asking you if I could get down on my knees and give you a blow job right here,” Harry jokes and Louis laughs loud at that.   
  
“This is a family show, Styles.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
Louis shakes his head and focuses on tweeting HAIM to let them know their song is playing. It’s a great way to bring attention to the station. Another great way Harry is getting _his_ attention is by rolling his chair closer and kissing Louis softly on his jaw. Louis shivers. “You’re impossible today,” he whispers.  
  
“Should I stop?” Harry asks against his skin.   
  
“Did you hear me complain?” Louis teases and turns his head to kiss Harry fully on the lips. He groans lowly when Harry licks into his mouth, and his grip on the microphone goes slack with how distracted he’s getting.   
  
“Lou?” Harry says and Louis doesn’t let him speak anymore, wants to kiss him forever. “Lou,” he says more urgently and pulls back.   
  
“What?” Louis asks, slowly opening his eyes and staring at Harry with his lips still parted.   
  
“The song is over, don’t you have to do something now?”  
  
“Shit,” Louis mumbles under his breath and raises the volume on his microphone before taking the next call. Harry chuckles softly next to him and Louis considers raising his mic up as well so people can hear that beautiful sound, but decides against it. He supposes he deserves to have Harry all to himself after sharing him with so many people over the weekend.   
  
Harry is great company, and Liam stops by to bring them lunch (which he never does when it’s only Louis) and hangs out with them for a while before heading back home. It’s halfway through his program that Louis starts noticing the unusual tweets he’s being mentioned in.   
  
“H? Did you see this?” he asks, showing Harry his phone. About nineteen people have tweeted about how cute they look together and wanting to know if they’re boyfriends. Some have even included blue and green hearts in their tweets, to match their eyes.   
  
“Are you going to answer them?” Harry asks with a grin. He’s feeling pleased and Louis thinks it’s simply adorable.  
  
“I don’t know, what do you think?” he asks, and Harry nods.   
  
“I wouldn’t mind it. Would it be a problem for you here?”  
  
“Having you here is trouble enough, Styles. This is just the cherry on top,” he says as he tweets: You guessed it right. @h_styles94 and I are indeed the cutest couple. What should be our song? Send in suggestions and we’ll play our favorite.  
  
“I don’t want other people choosing our song,” Harry says with a frown.   
  
“It’ll be fun, and I said we’d play our favorite, not which one would be our song. Do you have a song in mind?”  
  
Harry thinks, pinching his bottom lip in the process. “I’ll get back to you on that one,” he says and Louis nods.   
  
Harry ends up loving the suggestions and having a lot of fun with them. They range from ridiculous to serious, and Harry ends up being in charge of the favorite song of the day.   
  
“I guess I’ll have to go with The Darkness, I Believe in a Thing Called Love,” he says between giggles.   
  
“Excellent choice, Harold. This will be our last one so thank you all so much for calling and tweeting your suggestions, always appreciate them. Have anything to say, Harold?”  
  
“Uhh, just. Just, be nice to each other, I guess,” he says, still not used to the microphone. “All the love.”  
  
Louis chuckles. “Thanks for being with us today, Harold. This was Tommo on Demand and I’ll hear you all tomorrow, bye,” he says and turns off his mic, turning on the song and queuing the commercial break before the next segment.   
  
He takes his headphones off and Harry does the same. “How do you feel about a career on the radio?” he asks and Harry smiles.   
  
“My sister always told me I have a face for radio so I might as well follow this path.”  
  
“Your sister is blind and jealous, but don’t tell her I said that,” he adds and stands up. Harry follows him out of the studio, saying goodbye to the people Louis works with and shaking everybody’s hand before leaving. Louis feels everybody’s positive feelings towards Harry. There’s not a person in the room who dislikes him, which is more he can say about himself.   
  
“Should I drop you off or…?” Louis asks when they get into his car, fastening his seat belt.   
  
“Unless you have somewhere else you want to go, you can drop me off, yes,” Harry says, turning on the radio. “You can stay, if you’d like. I was thinking about cooking something and having a night in,” Harry suggests nonchalantly, but Louis sees right through it.  
  
“Yeah, that would be great,” he says, mirroring Harry's smile and exits the building’s garage. The sun is setting by the time they reach Harry's place and the temperature has dropped significantly.   
  
Harry cooks them pasta primavera and they eat with a glass of wine each. Louis doesn’t need much to feel a little buzz and Harry somehow manages to be even a lighter weight than he is. He definitely feels more tipsy around Harry than he’d feel if he’d been drinking alone.   
  
He’s borrowed one of Harry's jumpers in lieu of being around in his coat. He’s got his shoes off, there’s soft music playing in the background, the room is illuminated only by a couple of lamps here and there and he’s comfortably perched on Harry's lap, who is slouching on the couch. Life is good.   
  
Harry is leaning back, resting his head against the soft padding of the couch with one hand on Louis' thigh and one on his waist, his thumbs gently caressing Louis. Louis has Harry's phone in his hands, setting him up with his favorite podcasts. Harry insisted on getting familiar with them as he wants to share as many things as possible with him, he’s told Louis.   
  
“You don’t have to listen to all of them, I’m just setting them up, yeah?” Louis says, and he’s going to point out his favorites when a message from WhatsApp pops on the top of the screen. It’s a picture and Louis does his best to not look at it. He focuses on the app, but he catches a glance from the corner of his eyes and before the message disappears from the screen his eyes read “Jay Lou Mom” as the contact. “Is my mother texting you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.   
  
“Yeah, she was trying the recipe for the shortbread. Did she get it right?” Harry asks excitedly. Louis hands him the phone and Harry grins. “Look at them.”  
  
He turns the phone to Louis and he sees a picture of his mom, Lottie, Doris and Ernest in the kitchen with cute aprons and a mess of flour on the counter. Louis smiles but frowns. “She hasn’t texted me all day and she’s texting you?”  
  
“Guess I’m her new favorite,” Harry beams.   
  
“Not fair,” Louis says with a pout he’s only half faking.   
  
“Check the most recent conversation threads,” Harry tells him, handing him the phone back.   
  
“I’m not that kind of boyfriend, Harold. I won’t go through your messages,” Louis says and refuses to get the phone back.   
  
“But I’m telling you to. Just ignore the one from “sugar daddy #7” and you’ll be fine,” he jokes and Louis accepts the phone.   
  
He sees his mom in the first line, followed by Niall (whose latest text was a whale and an astronaut emoji, whatever the hell that meant) and then Lottie. The next one is Fizzy, then Harry's mom, followed by Dan and then himself. His heart feels impossibly big in his chest.   
  
“You’re sneaking your way into my family, Styles.”  
  
“One Tomlinson and Deakin at a time.”   
  
Louis looks up from his phone to find Harry looking at him with a feeling Louis can only describe as love. Louis is sure he’s not mirroring it this time. Harry smiles kindly at him, and the dimly lit room makes his features look softer and his green eyes sparkle golden.   
  
“What?” he asks, feeling himself melt under Harry's adoring gaze.   
  
“Nothing, I’m just enjoying being here with you, that’s all,” Harry explains and cups Louis' face with his hand. Louis leans into it, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Harry's touch on his skin.   
  
He feels the shift in Harry's position and then the soft press of his lips on his own. He breathes out a long exhale as he kisses Harry back, circling his neck with his arm. Harry puts his hand on Louis' lower back and pulls him flush against his chest. Louis takes the opportunity to prod Harry's mouth open with the tip of his tongue and tugs at Harry's hair.   
  
Harry groans and Louis sees that peculiar shade of green that reminds him of the color of football fields, that tinge of green that he only sees when they’re kissing. He’s added it to the painting he gave Harry, and it’s one of his favorite colors. He keeps kissing him, reveling in the feeling of his body so close to his, feeling their embrace deeper than anybody else could.   
  
He’s breathless, and hot and so turned on his jeans are getting tight. Harry moves on to his jaw, traces it with the tip of his nose and nibbles at his earlobe before attaching his mouth to the side of Louis' neck. It feels amazing and Louis frowns, biting his lip and lolling his head back.   
  
Harry is also incredibly turned on. Louis doesn’t need to open his eyes to see and feel that. He’s sitting on his lap and he can definitely feel it very physically. It’s always like this. They make out until they’re breathless, both equally turned on and then nothing else happens.   
  
“Harry?” Louis whispers, eyes still half shut. He feels a puff of air when Harry chuckles against his neck. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“You called me Harry,” Harry replies, still pressing kisses to Louis' neck.   
  
“That’s your name, isn’t it?” Louis asks and hisses when Harry starts sucking a bruise near his collarbone.   
  
“You call me Harold, H and Styles all the time. You only call me Harry when I’ve got you like this,” he explains, looking up at Louis with a smirk.   
  
“Really? I didn’t realize I did that,” Louis says and closes his eyes again when Harry slips his hands under his clothes, running his hands up and down the skin of Louis' back.   
  
“You do a lot of things you don’t realize,” Harry continues, kissing him deeply again. Harry has explored every inch of his mouth with his tongue by now, and it makes Louis dizzy with how well Harry kisses him. He whines when Harry pulls away. “But you wanted to ask me something?”  
  
“What? Oh, yeah,” Louis says, momentarily forgetting what he meant to say. Harry grins smugly at him. “Well, I wanted to ask you- well, why aren’t we having sex?”  
  
Harry was definitely not expecting that question because his eyes bulge out a little and his hand stops on Louis' back.   
  
“I mean, you want to, right?” Louis continues. “I guess you do, or I’m too turned on myself that I think you’re feeling it too?”  
  
“No, I do. Of course I do” Harry answers quickly.   
  
“Because, listen. You said you only had sex with two people and maybe that’s not something you really care about in a relationship, and I wanted to make sure that-”  
  
“Lou, can I speak?” he asks, tone amused and soft. Louis nods. “The reason I only had sex with two people is because I don’t like meaningless sex. I had sex with my first boyfriend back home when we were together for like what, three years? And then we broke up, I moved here and the first weekend I went out by myself I met this cute guy and we had sex. It was the most unsatisfactory sex of my entire life.”  
  
Louis chuckles lightly at the face Harry makes when he says that. “It was when I realized I don’t like sex just for the sake of it. Sure, it feels nice, but I want – no, need – more than that.”  
  
Louis bites his lips, confused. He feels Harry is being very relaxed about it, but he feels a terrible knot in his stomach. He’s not enough to make it meaningful to Harry. “Yeah, okay. I get it,” he says, trying to sound normal, like his heart is not tight in his chest and he’s not questioning everything he thought Harry felt for him.   
  
Harry frowns. “Do you really get it? Because you have a funny look on your face,” he says and Louis laughs it off. He needs to be somewhere else for a while, away from Harry and his love for him. He mumbles something and moves to get off Harry's lap, but he holds him in place. “Hey, what’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, I just- I just need to use the bathroom,” Louis says, and Harry holds him by the wrist this time.   
  
“Lou, tell me what’s wrong,” he says and there’s so much concern and affection on his face that Louis is reeling from the mixed feelings he’s picking up from him and his own, of disappointment and hurt.   
  
“It’s that you,” he pauses and closes his eyes for a second, fighting the tightness in his throat. “Your answer was not what I was expecting,” is what he settles for.  
  
“But I didn’t even answer your question yet,” Harry says, and Louis closes his eyes. “Hey, look at me, please.”  
  
Louis hears the pleading tone in his voice and shakes his head. “I need to keep them closed a little, yeah? I’m feeling a lot, from you and me. I’d like to focus on me now.”  
  
Harry immediately lets go of him. “Oh, God. Yeah, sure. I didn’t even think about it, I’m sorry. If you need to be alone, I won’t-”  
  
“You don’t have to apologize, I was being silly,” Louis says and takes a deep breath.   
  
“Can I still touch you?” Harry asks and Louis huffs out a laugh.   
  
“Please,” he says and Harry is back to touching him, holding him close and wrapping his arms around Louis. He lets himself be held, and he thinks he’s able to be more coherent after a couple of minutes.   
  
He pulls away and opens his eyes. “Can I tell you why I was upset?” Harry nods, and he’s so worried it weirdly comforts Louis. He needs to follow his own advice and not feel ashamed of his feelings. They’re all valid, no matter what they are. “Because you said you only have sex that means something to you, and we aren’t, so… You get what I’m saying, right?”  
  
He knows Harry gets it because his whole demeanor changes. “No no no no. Lou, no. Oh God it’s nothing like that,” he stumbles through his words. “Lou, the only reason we haven’t been doing it it’s because I’m scared.”  
  
It’s Louis' turn to be confused. “What?”  
  
“I’m scared you’ll hate it,” he says and Louis feels the courage it’s taken him to admit that.   
  
“Why would I hate it?” Louis asks, more confused than ever. He can’t even conceive the idea it would be anything short of perfect.   
  
“Remember how you told me about what hugging feels like for you? I can only imagine what sex is like, and… I don’t know. I don’t know how it works for you and I’m worried I’ll disappoint you. There’s nothing more in this world that would mean more to me than making love to you,” Harry finishes with a sigh and looks down.   
  
“Oh, Harry,” Louis says, relief making his smile and relax his shoulder. He holds Harry's face in both his hands. Harry is feeling embarrassed and slightly defeated, and Louis can’t have that. “You could never disappoint me in any way, especially like this. How did this become such a misunderstanding?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Harry replies, but he’s smiling a little now. “I’m sorry you ever thought I didn’t want it. I can barely resist being around you.”  
  
“The feeling is mutual, believe me,” Louis says and Harry's smile grows bigger, his dimple showing up. Louis kisses it and Harry giggles. “It was sweet of you to be this worried about me, but I’ll be fine. Can I kiss you again?”  
  
Harry leans forward and kisses Louis instead of answering him. They both smile into the kiss and Louis feels his heart impossibly big in his chest. He feels so much he thinks he’s going to burst if he doesn’t tell Harry how he feels about him, and Harry deserves to know. “Hey,” Louis calls softly, and Harry opens his eyes. “I love you.”  
  
Harry's smile turns brighter than the sun, and Louis feels butterflies in his chest. He’s done it, he’s said it and Harry looks and feels so happy Louis can’t help but smile along with him. “I love you, too. But of course you already knew that,” he says and Louis chuckles, going back to kissing him deeply. He squeaks when Harry puts his hands under his thighs and lifts them both up.   
  
Louis clings to his neck, giggling as Harry adjusts him on his waist and starts walking towards the bedroom. “What are you doing? Is this like a macho show of strength to impress me?” Louis yelps, laughing and putting his hands on Harry's biceps, strained from holding his weight.   
  
“Just taking the boyfriend I love to my bed to make love to him,” Harry says, and opens the door with his foot so they can enter his bedroom.   
  
“You’re using that word a lot,” Louis teases, letting himself be lowered on the bed.   
  
“I’m feeling it a lot, so it’s only fair,” Harry explains matter of factly and turns on his nightstand lamp.   
  
The room feels cozy and the bed smells and feels clean. Louis is in heaven when Harry settles between his legs and starts kissing him, deeply and lovingly. He grunts when he feels Harry's erection pressed against his hips.   
  
“Tell me how it works for you,” Harry whispers in his ear.   
  
“Just like with everyone else, you goof,” Louis says with a smile.   
  
Harry lifts himself up on his elbows, staring intensely at Louis. “That’s not true. I told you I don’t want to screw this up.”  
  
Louis sighs. “Maybe it’s a little different, yeah. It can be a little more complicated.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Well, you know how you sometimes like things and your partner not so much?” Harry nods. “The thing is,” he takes a deep breath. “For example, some people are really into pain and such, yeah? I’m not, you see. So if you want me to like, hit you or use anything too harsh, I’ll feel it and not like it, you know?”  
  
“You have to like the things that you are doing to your partner as well,” Harry says, nodding his head. “I thought it would be something like this.”  
  
“So we need to maybe talk a little bit more about the things we’re about to do before doing them, that’s all,” Louis says and shifts under him, adjusting Harry's weight over him.   
  
“Isn’t it how it’s supposed to be with everybody?” Harry asks, and turns his face so he can go back to kissing Louis' neck.   
  
“That’s true,” Louis says, and arches his back a little when Harry presses his hips down on his, causing a delicious bout of friction against his own erection.   
  
“Do you like this?” Harry asks, sliding his hands under Louis' shirt and gliding the tips of his fingers against Louis' hot skin.   
  
“Yes,” Louis mumbles, forcing his torso up a bit until Harry sits back on his heels. “Would also love to be naked with you.”  
  
Harry grins and pulls his t-shirt off in one swift movement. He closes his eyes when Louis starts touching him, dragging his nails against Harry's laurels. Louis feels them on his own skin, feels the pressure and the light tickle. Louis pushes him back until he’s laying down, and straddles his waist. He feels the hardness of Harry's cock under him, but he does his best to ignore it for now. He’s busy tracing all of Harry's tattoos.   
  
He moves upwards, fingers hovering on the butterfly tattoo and it suddenly hits him. “You have a butterfly on your stomach,” he says, shaking his head.   
  
“You’ve seen me shirtless before,” Harry says with a smile, holding Louis' waist.  
  
“I never got the pun until now. You’re ridiculous,” Louis says and dips down for a long kiss. Harry's hand tightens on Louis' side when Louis brushes the knuckles of his fingers on Harry's nipple. He’s glad Harry enjoys it as much as he does.   
  
Louis moves lower down Harry's body, sitting on his thighs and undoing the buttons on Harry's skin-tight jeans. “Let me help you with that,” Harry says and pushes his jeans down his legs while Louis does the same with his own.   
  
They stare at each other for a few seconds, just taking in their half-naked bodies without touching much. Then Harry pulls Louis back on top of him and starts kissing him like he wants to get drunk on it. Louis certainly feels dizzy.   
  
Harry is so hot under him, his skin almost feverish. Louis snakes down a hand between them and cups Harry's cock through his underwear, and Harry moans underneath him. And there it is, a color Louis has never seen before come out from his lips. It’s an almost sparkling green that floats in his vision before dissipating in a cloud of fog.   
  
“Lou?” Harry asks, almost out of breath. Louis hums a response, busy kissing Harry's abdomen, tracing lines on his skin with the tip of his tongue. “Do you like blow jobs?”  
  
Louis looks up at him and smirks. “Are you asking that so I give you one?”  
  
“I actually wanted to do it to you,” Harry confesses, cheeks flushed pink. He looks incredible with his puffed up red lips and a dark crimson bruise on his chest.   
  
“Me first, yeah?” Louis teases and hooks his fingers under the waistband of Harry's underwear. He carefully pulls it along and off his legs, and licks his lips in anticipation. Harry is hard and leaking on his own stomach, and the sight of it makes Louis' own cock twitch. He quickly removes his own underwear and goes back to Harry.  
  
“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells Harry, circling his cock with a loose fist. Harry whimpers and Louis feels a jolt of pleasure going up his spine. He jerks him a little faster and feels it on himself. Harry has his eyes closed and Louis takes the opportunity to lower himself on the bed and lick the head of Harry's cock.   
  
Harry's eyes fly open and he stares as Louis as he puts the tip in his mouth and sucks lightly on it. “Fuck, Lou, that feels nice,” Harry tells him, and throws his head back. Louis moans around him, memorizing the taste and heaviness of him in his mouth. He feels the wet heat around his own cock and does what he always does when he’s in this position. He grabs hold of himself, making sure his fingers are pressing firmly against his skin. He doesn’t jerk off, just adds real contact to himself.   
  
He gathers a little bit of saliva in his mouth and slides Harry's cock deeper inside his mouth, making sure his tongue is flat under the head and that his mouth is as wet and slick as possible. Harry cursers again under his breath and one of his hands goes to Louis' hair, softly scratching his scalp. He has his other arm crooked over his face and covering his eyes. His strong jaw line is even sharper from this angle, and his uneven breathing through his parted lips makes Louis breathless himself.   
  
“Is this okay? How do you like it? I’ll do it anyway you like,” Louis tells him, and Harry looks down at him with glassed over eyes.   
  
“It’s perfect like that,” he says and Louis takes him in his mouth again, going as deep as he can before gagging, working Harry’s length with his fingers. “You’re doing so well, Lou.”  
  
He always tries to do things in a way that pleases his partners, but in reality he does what feels good to him more often than not. He loves little breaks with just licks and light sucking, so that’s what he does. He loves it sloppy and messy, so he does just that. He feels Harry's pleasure as if it were his own and he needs to try really, really hard not to come. Louis squeezes himself harder and moans. It causes Harry to open his eyes and look down at him.   
  
“Hey, let me take care of you later, yeah? I want to be the one to make you come,” Harry tells him and his voice is hoarse in a way that makes Louis proud of himself.   
  
“I’m not- I’m not jerking off. I just need to feel something around my cock,” Louis explains, and he sees the moment realization hits Harry.   
  
“You’re feeling it as well, aren’t you? Your own mouth on you?” he says and Louis nods. “Fuck, that’s so sexy.”  
  
Louis is happy Harry thinks so because it’s not always the case. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to bring Harry back inside, but Harry touches his chin and makes him look up. “Let’s do it together, yeah? Come here,” he says and Louis is confused with the way Harry is lowering himself on the bed, making his legs dangle off of it. “Turn around,” Harry tells him and Louis realizes what he wants to do. He wants to sixty-nine.   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” he says shakily, and moves so his feet are next to Harry's head, straddling his chest. He puts his arms next to Harry's thigh, lowering his head so he can take Harry back in his mouth.   
  
Harry's hands circle his thighs and suddenly his cock is engulfed in wet heat as Harry mouths him. He groans and shuts his eyes, doing his best not to thrust down and gag Harry. He can barely breathe for a few seconds, just taking in the pleasure that’s filling his veins and making his skin tingle.   
  
“Harry…” he whispers and Harry pulls away with a pop.   
  
“Love it when you say my name like that,” Harry tells him, nibbling the back of his thighs where they meet his bum. Louis drops his head low, bringing his forehead to Harry's hips when Harry puts one of his balls in his mouth and rolls it around his tongue. Louis moans loudly, way louder than he intended, and takes up Harry again and does the same, focusing on releasing all the pleasure from Harry's mouth to his cock. Harry is rock hard against his tongue, and he sucks and tries to slide Harry as deep as he can.   
  
As it turns out, Harry is better at not gagging than he is. He puts his hands on Louis' ass and brings his hips down, making Louis sink further down his mouth and a little into his throat. Louis moves his hips just a little, fucking Harry's mouth in a way that has him curling the sheet in his fists. He feels his throat tighter, but doesn’t feel like chocking.   
  
“Harry, I’m gonna come,” he says breathlessly, and whines when Harry pulls away.   
  
“Can I ask you something?” Harry says, and his voice sounds wrecked from Louis' cock.  
  
“Now?!” Louis says, turning his head in a way that allows him to see Harry's face. His cock twitches at the sight. Harry looks completely fucked down, chin wet with his saliva and strands of hair sticking to his sweaty neck.   
  
“If you come first, then I come…will you come twice?”   
  
Louis nods. “Won’t actually shoot up, but I’ll feel it,” he confirms.   
  
Harry grins deviously. “Good to know,” he says and pulls Louis' hips back down again. Louis closes his eyes and just lets himself be sucked and licked out, too overwhelmed to do anything else. He feels the phantom heaviness in his tongue, and he usually suck on his own fingers to help with the feeling, but he has something much better in front of him now. He kisses and sucks Harry's cock, and in a matter of seconds his hips start moving and Harry starts sucking harder.   
  
Faster than he thought it would happen, his orgasm hits him like a crashing wave, making his body twist and turn with pleasure, his eyes pinched shut as he stops breathing, pleasure making it impossible for him to gulp air. He feels semen down his throat as he feels Harry swallow around him, and it does nothing but turn him on more.   
  
With a strained groan, he starts breathing again and pulls away from Harry, too sensitive. He slowly turns around so he’s facing Harry again, laying next to him. He’s flushed and panting, but smiling widely at him. “Was it good?” Harry asks.   
  
Louis laughs wetly, nodding as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He’s still coming down from his high, and kisses Harry back weakly when he presses his lips against him. He tastes himself on Harry's tongue and it makes him smile.   
  
“Lou, look,” Harry says and Louis opens his eyes. Harry is thrusting up in his own fist, and Louis' jaw drops open with how sexy it is. Harry's abdomen is tight and his chest is heaving as he breathes fast. Louis watches him get himself off, feeling it on his own body. Harry looks absolutely gone for it, throwing his head back and moaning. Louis is sure he’s putting up a show for him, and damn it if it’s not working.   
  
Louis feels another orgasm building up, feels Harry's hand on his own cock moving faster and faster until Harry comes with a strangled groan. He doesn’t stop moving his hand until every last drop is milked out of him.   
  
And Louis feels it all. He feels the rush going through Harry's body, feels the heat boiling in his groin and the relief of the release. His second orgasm is as powerful as the first one, and it leaves him panting and knocked out.   
  
Harry is the most gorgeous thing Louis has ever seen coming down from his orgasm. His swollen bitten lips are begging for Louis' own, and he kisses him deeply, tongues easily gliding against each other.   
  
“You’re such a show off,” Louis teases, making Harry laugh against his mouth.  
  
“You haven’t seen a thing,” Harry says and moves his hand to his mouth, licking his come covered fingers and moaning around them. Louis' jaw drops and he licks his lips. He needs to know how Harry tastes so it can match what his brain is telling him.   
  
He swipes a finger on Harry's stomach, gathering some of it on his finger and licks it up. It’s salty and warm and Louis can die in peace knowing how Harry tastes like. Harry pulls him for another kiss and Louis lets him fuck his mouth with this tongue.   
  
Harry pulls Louis on top of him and Louis goes easily. “You definitely made sounds I hadn’t seen before,” Louis tells him, planting soft kisses on Harry's neck.   
  
“Think it’s too late to add them to the painting you made?” Harry asks and Louis hears the smile in his voice.   
  
“I’ll make a whole new one and title it “Harry Styles in bed”, how does that sound?”  
  
“Like a great present to send to my mom,” Harry jokes and Louis giggles.  
  
He feels extremely relaxed and the feeling only increases when he rests his chin on Harry's chest and sees his soft expression. “How did it feel like, for you?” Harry asks, hands cupping Louis' face.   
  
“It felt like…” Louis pauses for a bit in thought. “It felt like I was where I was meant to be all along. It was amazing, Harry. You’re amazing,” he says and Harry smiles widely enough for his dimple to show.   
  
“You’re just stroking my ego at this point,” Harry says, face red.   
  
“Like you weren’t cocky enough already,” Louis agrees with a smirk and rolls off of him. “I need a shower and a nap.”  
  
Harry smiles. “You’re welcome to stay the night.”  
  
“Will you wake me up with another blow job tomorrow?”  
  
Harry pretends to be deep in thought. “If you massage my back, you have a deal.”  
  
“It’ll have a happy ending this time,” Louis says with a wink. He gets up to go to the bathroom, followed closely by a sleepy Harry.   



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! As promised, here's a warning in case you wanna skip the smut:   
> One scene involves Harry masturbating, so if you want to skip that it starts at "He picks up his phone and realizes all the texts had been from Louis" and you can continue reading after "The next day he drops by the radio station..."
> 
> The other scene starts at “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” and ends at "Except they’re both too hyped up to go to sleep just yet..."

“I swear to God, Harry, if you do it I’ll cut your balls off,” Louis threatens, which only makes Harry’s grin grow wider.  
  
“But you love them so much,” he teases with a wicked smile and dodges when Louis tries to kick him. “You look so pretty here, it’d be a shame not to share it.”

Harry glances at his phone again, and he honestly thinks Louis doesn’t look as bad as he thinks he does. It’s after six and Louis has dropped by the store to see him after it closed. Somehow Harry managed to make him try some outfits, and Louis looked so hot Harry could barely keep his hands to himself.  
  
Louis posed for him in leather jackets, in aviators, in a light blue suit and indulged Harry in any other outfit he suggested.  
  
But then he had an idea. He dared Louis to put together the most ridiculous outfit he could out of all the things in Harry's store. He knew Louis loved nothing more than a challenge. And this is how he ended up with the following picture on his phone: Louis in a Madonna crop top, bright neon green pants with camo patches on it, a pair of pink cowboy boots, a glittery purple scarf and a cowboy hat (to match the boots, of course). He had perfectly accessorized it with a pair of reflective blue sunglasses and a granny square crochet bag.  
  
“Do you have any idea how much credit I’d get with Liam and Niall if I posted this in the group chat?” Harry argues, finger hovering over the ‘send’ button.  
  
“Do you have any idea how much of my ass you’ll get if you do that? None.”  
  
Louis would look scary, he really would, if he still wasn’t wearing that stupid outfit. He glares at Harry when he realizes Harry is holding back laughter.  
  
“You’re so infuriating,” he says and throws his hands up. They end up hitting the brim of his hat and sending it halfway across the room. Harry can’t help himself and cackles, covering his mouth to stop the sudden burst of laughter.  
  
He doesn’t know if Louis is just mirroring or if his mood actually changes because he snickers at the absurdity of it.  
  
“I’m not sending it, yeah? Look,” he shows off his phone, where he’s closed all the apps. “But I’m not deleting it either,” he adds and pulls Louis by the waist.  
  
“Are you going to wank to it?” he asks with a raise of his brow.  
  
“Every single night,” Harry says seriously, and nods.  
  
“I can send you some better material if you want,” Louis says, tracing his fingers on Harry's shoulder.  
  
Harry swallows dry. “Really?”  
  
Louis nods. “Only if you make good use of them.”  
  
Harry agrees and pulls him in for a kiss. The idea has sent a wave of arousal through him and Louis is quick to notice. “I should really start getting ready,” he says, pecking Harry on the lips lightly.  
  
“Right, of course,” Harry says, and makes a conscious effort to pull away from him. He follows Louis upstairs, where he changes out of his ridiculous outfit and steps into Harry's shower. Harry makes him some tea while he waits for him to be done, and turns on the TV for background noise as he tidies up the kitchen.  
  
Louis has the radio holiday dinner that night, and has decided to get ready at Harry's place because it’s a much easier route from work. Harry has picked a very nice button up from his store, at Louis' request. It’s a beautiful shade of blue that Harry is sure is going to bring out his eyes, with a complimentary navy blue tie.  
  
He’s ready for a smartly dressed looking Louis, but he’s not ready for the sight that graces him when Louis steps into the kitchen, still barefoot but otherwise fully dressed. He notices his jaw has dropped when Louis beams at him. “How do I look?”  
  
Harry walks slowly to him, holding his chin and kissing him hard and long. “Stay,” he says, voice hoarse. He fiddles with Louis' tie, the silk amazingly soft under his fingers. Louis smells like the lavender body wash Harry uses.  
  
“Don’t tempt me, Styles. I’m this close to calling Liam to tell him he’s going alone and that I’m spending the night in with you,” he says, and takes a sip of his tea.

“But it’s the official annual dinner with the big boss, you can’t miss it for something silly,” Harry says, knowing full well how important this is.  
  
“But being with you is the best part of my day,” Louis argues, and he pouts just a little bit.  
  
“Weren’t you going to shave?” Harry asks, running his finger on the stubble on Louis' chin. Louis had mentioned wanting to look clean and sharp for it.  
  
“Damn it, I was,” Louis says, biting his lips in frustration. He glances at the clock on the kitchen wall. “No time for it now, Liam will be here any second.”  
  
“You look amazing, Lou,” Harry says, circling him by his waist when Louis moves to the sink to put the cup in.  
  
“As my boyfriend I feel this is something you’re obligated to say,” Louis teases, sneaking away from Harry's grip to put on his shoes by the couch.  
  
“Not an obligation when I have the prettiest boyfriend in the world,” Harry comments and Louis smiles, but he looks immensely pleased with the praise.  
  
“Flattery will get you absolutely everything from me, Styles,” Louis says and stands up, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt and putting on his blazer. “Walk me out?”  
  
They go downstairs and stand on the sidewalk for only a couple of minutes before Liam’s car stops by the sidewalk to let Louis in.  
  
“Hey, Harry,” he says from the window, all smiles.  
  
“Hi, Liam. Excited about tonight?” Harry asks, bending at the waist to talk to him while Louis gets in.  
  
“Very. The boss always takes us to the best restaurants and pays for everybody to get drunk and have a good time,” he says and Harry laughs when he sees Louis rolling his eyes from the car.  
  
“Liam is probably the only one who enjoys this thing.”  
  
“You boys have fun,” Harry says and kisses Louis through the open window, waving them goodbye as the car drives away.  
  
He goes inside shivering. It’s bloody cold and he wishes he had Louis to sleep in his bed to keep him warm, but cranking up the heat and adding more blankets will have to do.  
  
He has a lovely evening between talking to his mom on the phone for over an hour while he does laundry and eating cereal for dinner. He gets sporadic texts from Louis that make him smile.  
  
_this is the most boring evening ive ever had  
  
everybody is drinkning and i feel wasted  
  
wnet to the bathroom and suddenly realized i need some booze in my own system if im gonna make it through the night  
  
had three glasses of champagne and one wine everybody seems much more interesting now  
  
wish i was there wiht you  
_  
Harry spends longer than he intended watching Netflix and doesn’t go to bed until midnight. He’s flossing when he hears his phone buzz again and again from his nightstand. He counts at least fourteen messages, and frowns. His dad is usually the one to text him multiple times, but he is not usually awake this late.  
  
He brushes his teeth and washes his face before getting into bed, sighing when his painful back stretches on the mattress. He picks up his phone and realizes all the texts had been from Louis. He thumbs at his conversation thread and pulls in a sharp, noisy breath.  
  
The first picture he sees is of Louis in his own bed, the room dimly lit by his bedside table lamp. He’s angled the phone towards his waist and is holding his clearly hard cock through his pants. The picture is tagged with “champagne makes me feel a little naughty.”  
  
He scrolls down just one picture and sees Louis' shirt is open for the next picture and that his pants are unbuttoned, his hand inside his underwear. He lets out a whimper as he scrolls down and sees the progression of Louis getting undressed.  
  
Louis changes the angle of the pictures when he’s got his trousers and underwear off. He’s wearing his button up open, showing off the skin on his chest and stomach. His tie is askew on his neck, pushed to the side a little bit. The contrast of the dark color on his light skin is stunning.  
  
He’s obviously put the timer on the camera because it looks like it’s propped on a pillow between his parted legs. Harry has a clear view of his cock and balls and his perfect abdomen, but it cuts right below Louis' nose, leaving only his mouth and chin visible. The light stubble only makes everything even hotter.  
  
Harry huffs out a puff of air when he reads “you liked the tie so much I thought I might keep it on.” He’s so hard he needs to grasp himself lightly to keep the sensitivity at bay. One after the other, the pictures leave him speechless. He feels his cock getting harder and harder in his hand, and starts to move it up and down slowly, teasing.  
  
Harry whines when he sees there’s a video in the middle of the pictures. It’s only 28 seconds long, but it shows Louis jerking off and moaning so prettily Harry feels a tug in his abdomen. He’s sighing and groaning with the movement of his hands, one cupping his sack and the other moving faster on his shaft. Harry can’t help but move his own hand faster and tighter, the dry skin quickly wetted by the pre cum on his tip.  
  
Harry comes just before the video ends, right when Louis moans his name. It’s what does it for him, and he strains to keep his eyes open as his cock twitches and his semen quickly soaks through his underwear. The video ends right after Louis comes with a strangled groan all over his stomach and moves to turn the camera off.  
  
The last picture he sends is a close up of the tie with wet spots on it. “got it all dirty, sorry.” Harry doubts Louis is sorry about anything.  
  
He lowers his sweat pants and takes a picture of his wet hand and soaked underwear. He wants to call Louis, but he also wants to tease, so he sends the picture with the caption “baby, look what you’ve done to me.”  
  
He immediately receives a string of wink emojis, followed by a “that was fast.”  
  
Harry giggles and goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. He comes back to bed with fresh underwear and climbs back under the blankets, grabbing his phone and seeing there is another text from Louis.  
  
_was this ok?_  
  
Harry sends a whole line of thumbs up as a response, and a quick “wish you were here, though.” Louis replies with “tomorrow?” and Harry can’t type an affirmative response fast enough.  
  
The next day he drops by the radio station to bring Louis his lunch. He’s cooked a delicious pulled pork crock pot recipe and knew he had to share it with Louis the moment he tasted it.  
  
“You shouldn’t waste your whole lunch break just to come all the way here to bring me food,” Louis says when they sit across from each other at the desk where Louis is working before he goes on air. He’s also smiling big and licking his lips when he grabs the cutlery Harry brought along right after his feeble protest.  
  
Harry has eaten before, wanting to have a proper eye to eye conversation with Louis while they spend time together.  
  
“Least I could do after the pictures you sent me last night,” he says nonchalantly and chuckles when Louis chokes on his food.  
  
“Harold, please. This is my place of employment,” he says, but he’s smiling and dabbing at his mouth with a paper napkin.  
  
Harry feels bad enough for him and drops the subject while Louis eats, chatting about the dinner from the night before. Louis has a lot to say about that.  
  
Harry beams with pride when Louis tells him again and again how good his food tastes. “You know what they say, keep your man’s stomach full and his balls empty,” Harry says.  
  
Louis spits the sip of water he had in his mouth and bends over laughing, resting his head on the desk, right next to his empty plate. He’s got crinkles by his eyes, which is enough to keep Harry going through the rest of the day. “You’re hopeless,” he tells Harry but goes to sit on the small, uncomfortable couch in the corner, beckoning Harry to sit next to him. “I’ve still got fifteen minutes before I go on air.”  
  
“Will you really come over tonight? There’s a ton of leftovers, and I can cook us some rice and make a salad,” Harry says as Louis puts his arms over his shoulders. Harry holds his hand hanging next to his chest, and presses a kiss to the back of it.  
  
“You’re really making good on that saying, aren’t you?” Louis teases and brushes the hair out of Harry's face. “You’re pretty tired, I can feel it. Don’t you wanna rest tonight?”  
  
“I’ll feel tired with you there or not, might as well get a good cuddle from my boyfriend.”  
  
Louis smiles at him. “You’re like an adorable puppy when you want to, you know that? I wanna come over, yeah. Even if it’s just to hang out and sleep in your comfy bed with you as my personal heater.”  
  
“Perfect, I’ll be waiting,” Harry says and pecks him lightly. He wants to leave before Louis goes on air, but Louis insists he leans into the microphone and says hi to the listeners. He posts another selfie of them together because Harry “looks absolutely edible in his light pink sweater and bouncy curls.”  
  
“You’re just using me for social media approval,” Harry fake complains when the first song starts playing, one foot out the door. He needs to hurry if he wants to get back to the store before his lunch break is over.  
  
“Of course, why else?” Louis teases, but smiles sweetly and says a quiet “I love you.”  
  
“Love you too,” Harry replies with a matching grin, feelings his stomach fill with butterflies at hearing Louis say that. He’s sure he’ll never get tired of hearing that. “See you tonight.”  
  
With a blown kiss Harry is out the door and saying goodbye to Louis' co-workers. He’s whistling along to his music while riding the tube, and he feels like walking on air when he unlocks the shop and is immediately greeted by one of his regulars.  
  
When he has some free time without costumers – not very much, winter is always busy with people shopping for winter gear – he looks up the Instagram account Louis has created for the store. He and Louis were discussing how it could help spread the store in social media if he tagged things like crazy and took pictures of the most interesting pieces he had.  
  
He’s insisted on taking pictures of Harry wearing some of the pieces, like jackets and more ‘out there’ printed shirts. Harry wouldn’t let him photograph his face, though. He has eight pictures up and a few likes on them. He’s not actively trying to promote the account until he gets a good amount of content in it, and he thinks he has the perfect picture for it. He only has three followers: his personal account, Louis' and an account of rainbow bears in bondage wear run by a girl from Germany.  
  
He uploads one of the pictures he took of Louis in one of the serious outfits he’s tried the day before. He’s got a pair of his own jeans on, but he’s wearing a white t-shirt and a brown suede jacket from his store. Instead of posing, he’s laughing at one of Harry's jokes, he can’t remember which, but his smile is so genuine and contagious that Harry posts it with a simple filter before giving it much thought. He doesn’t add any tags to it, not even Louis' own account. He wants to check with him first.  
  
He finishes his day with a good number of sales and is in a great mood when he locks the shop and goes up to his small flat. He takes a shower and lets his hair air dry as he cooks some rice and washes up some greens for the salad he’s promised Louis.  
  
He turns on some music – one of Louis' own playlists that he follows on Spotify – and tidies up the flat a bit. He fluffs the pillows, puts away the sneakers at the foot of his bed, piles up the magazines on the coffee table and lights up one of his favorite scented candles.  
  
He brushes his teeth, combs his hair with his fingers and looks down at the five small tubes of lipstick lined up on the counter. Louis has given him two and he’s gone and bought another one, and Louis hasn’t seen him wearing it yet. He applies it carefully, feeling the soft glide on his lips, much smoother than the cheap ones he used to wear.  
  
He looks at himself in the mirror and smiles. He’s beyond happy that Louis has given him the confidence he needed to be himself.  
  
He doesn’t have to wait long for Louis, who’s getting to his home earlier and earlier. It makes Harry smile that Louis is always as eager to see him as he is.  
  
“Hi, love,” Louis tells him when Harry unlocks the gate and welcomes him in, a little bit of cold rain splashing his shoes. “It’s bloody freezing out here,” he says, kicking his wet boots on the rug at Harry's door. He looks up to smile at him and freezes. “Are you wearing a new color?”  
  
Harry nods, smiling with his lips pursed. “Fuck, you look amazing. Don’t want to kiss you and rub it off,” he says but circles Harry with his waist and buries his face in his neck. His nose is cold and Harry giggles.  
  
“I can always reapply. Come here,” he says and tilts Louis' face up with a finger to his chin. He brings their lips together, and exhales deeply when Louis immediately starts prodding his lips open with his tongue. Harry presses himself closer against him and kisses him just as deeply, Louis' lips and tongue wet and soft on his mouth.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs,” Louis mumbles into the kiss, and Harry nods. He grabs Louis' hand and makes sure he goes ahead of him.  
  
“I cooked us some side dishes to eat with the leftovers,” Harry tells him, and Louis stops at the kitchen entryway, throwing his coat on the back of Harry's couch.  
  
“I’m starving, really,” Louis says and washes his hand in the sink, helping Harry set up their salad. “Had to stay a little later because of an unexpected meeting and rushed here without even a snack.”  
  
“Why did you have to have an unexpected meeting?” Harry asks, setting things at the table and going to the fridge to get them some juice.  
  
“Nick is leaving the radio station.”  
  
Harry looks at him, ready to face an upset Louis. He doesn’t expect to see him grinning so wildly. “Oh yeah?” he asks, unsure of what to say.  
  
“They want me to host the show,” Louis says and Harry's jaw drops.  
  
“Are you serious?” he asks and Louis nods, his smile only growing bigger. “Lou! That’s awesome!” he says and grabs Louis by the waist, squeezing him so tightly that he lifts him off the floor.  
  
Louis laughs in his ear. “I’m still hosting my show, but now I get his segment too.”  
  
“That’s the best segment on the radio, and you’ll host it now!” Harry puts him down.  
  
“Hey, I thought my part was the best,” Louis fakes being indignant.  
  
“You’ll host the two bests, now,” Harry says with a giggle and kisses him. “We have to celebrate!” he says and puts the juice back. He rummages through his cabinets and finds a box of wine. “I’m afraid this is the best I’ve got.”  
  
“It’s perfect, H.” Louis says with a grin and they toast Louis' exciting news before eating. Louis keeps his eyes on his plate all the time, but he’s talking excitedly all throughout their meal. Harry loves to see him like this.  
  
“He’s got his two week notice to fill, and he doesn’t mind it because he’s got a great job lined up. And I already know how to work the radio so,” he says and Harry places his cutlery on the sides of his plate, a sign he’s not eating and that Louis can look at him.  
  
“You’re gonna be so great, Lou. People are going to really get a glimpse of your personality and they’ll love you so much,” he says and Louis looks down abashedly.  
  
“I hope they do because there’ll be much more time for me to ramble on air now,” he says and picks up his fork.  
  
“Hey, don’t think like that. How many more people have been working there for much longer than you have? That logic would pose they’d get chosen over you, right? And yet, they chose _you_. You have something special about you, Lou, and they see it.”  
  
Louis looks at him and bites his lip. “Thanks, H.”  
  
“You’re welcome. Now finish eating so I can give you a congratulatory blowjob,” Harry says and Louis cackles. Still, he forks down his food much faster.  
  
They move to the couch soon after eating, and Louis talks about the whole meeting for the second time. Harry loves to watch him talk so animatedly about something that makes him so happy. “How did they tell you again?” he asks.  
  
“You’ve heard me say it a million times already,” Louis says, rolling his eyes but smiling at him.  
  
“I wanna hear it again,” Harry insists, and Louis tsks him before kissing him.  
  
“You’re silly and supportive and I love you,” he says.  
  
“Just being honest,” Harry says and kisses him again. Before he has a chance to do anything else, Louis is getting up and beckoning him with his head.  
  
“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”  
  
Harry swallows dry and nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”  
  
He follows Louis with a hand to his smaller back, and is already toeing his shoes off by the time Louis turns on his nightstand lamp. Louis is smiling sweetly at him, and Harry can’t resist hugging him close and kissing him. Louis lets him for a while, but he’s soon impatient enough to tug at Harry's shirt. “Hey, come on.”  
  
Harry is quick to grab the back of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. Louis is already naked by the time Harry pulls his socks off and falls into bed with him, the contact of their skins together making a shiver go up his spine.  
  
Louis straddles him easily, and rubs their cocks together as they kiss. Both groan at the contact, and when Louis tries to sit up Harry grabs him by the back of his neck and keeps his head in place, tongue delving deep into his mouth. Louis whimpers and Harry uses his other hand to push his hips down, making them grind together harder.  
  
“Feels really good,” Louis mumbles into their kiss. He’s moving faster and faster now, and Harry is beginning to feel his body getting heated.  
  
“Want to make you feel good all the time,” he says and holds Louis by the waist when he flips them over. Louis squeaks in surprise and giggles a little.  
  
“On your way to the congratulatory blowjob?” he asks when Harry trails down his body with his tongue, stopping to suck a bruise on Louis' hip.  
  
“I’m a man of my word,” Harry says, and huffs out a moan when Louis fists his hair with both hands, closing his eyes.  
  
He can see how tense Louis is, how desperate he is for it, so he doesn’t tease. He holds Louis' cock in his hand and wraps his lips around the head all at once. Louis hisses and moves his hip up a little, greedy for more contact.  
  
Harry lets him. He holds his head still while Louis moves, his cock slipping in and out of Harry's mouth. He lets out the most delicious whimpers and Harry moves his hand up, tracing Louis' lips with his fingers.  
  
Louis immediately puts them in his mouth, sucking on Harry's middle and index finger with vigor. Harry has learned that it feels weird for Louis to have his dick sucked and not feel anything in his mouth. It drives Harry crazy to suck him off and have this amazing visual of Louis wetly sucking on his fingers.  
  
Louis is heavy on his tongue, and Harry hollows his cheeks as he sucks the head, then goes back to bobbing his head, fast and steady just like Louis enjoys it the most. Harry has learned that when he comes first it immediately triggers Louis' own orgasm and he ends up feeling just one when he could be feeling two, so Harry has made it his mission to only come after Louis.  
  
“Close, I’m close,” Louis warns, and Harry knows he is by the urgency in which Louis is pulling at his hair. Louis' breath is uneven and he looks flushed and red. Harry doubles his efforts, and closes his eyes when he feels the first string of come land on his tongue.  
  
He closes his lips around the head tightly, letting Louis fill his mouth and resting it on his tongue. When Louis stops shivering and Harry knows he has nothing else to give, he swallows and pulls away, panting.  
  
“Fuck, Harry. That was…” Louis starts but doesn’t get to finish it. Harry lays next to him and starts jerking himself off. Louis notices and replaces Harry's hand with his. “Let me,” he says.  
  
Harry knows he’s probably still sensitive, and feeling the extra stimulation on his spent cock must be edging on painful, but Louis loves it. He moves his hand in the way he likes the most on himself, staring at Harry's cock the whole time.  
  
He’s got his lips between his teeth and his breathing, which was almost back to normal, speeds up again. Harry is in no better shape, Louis' hand working moan after moan out of him. “Does that feel good?” he asks Louis, who only nods and whimpers when Harry can’t hold any longer. He comes with a strangled groan, air coming out noisily from his nose as his stomach is coated with semen.  
  
Louis is moaning right next to him, and shivering. Harry catches a glimpse of his cock, soft but twitching. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, willing his breathing to go back to normal.  
  
“How tired are you?” Louis asks, voice hoarse. Harry smiles and doesn’t open his eyes when he feels Louis' fingers running over the wetness on his stomach.  
  
“Pretty beat, if I’m honest,” Harry teases.  
  
“Well, that’s a shame. Was hoping you’d still fuck me tonight,” Louis says conversationally and Harry's eyes shoot wide open.  
  
“I’m not _that_ tired, you know,” he says but Louis is shaking his hand and sitting up, barely hiding his smirk.  
  
“No, no. You’re right. Long day and all,” he says, and Harry grabs him by his wrist and pulls him on top of him. Louis lets himself be pulled with a smile.  
  
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t do what my boyfriend wanted when he gets such a good boost in his career?” he says and kisses Louis slowly. “Do you really wanna do it this way?” he asks before turning on his side and stretching himself to reach the drawer, pulling out wet wipes from it.  
  
“Aren’t those handy?” Louis jokes, but takes them from Harry's hand to clean them both up.  
  
“I happen to have a boyfriend who likes to send me pretty naughty pictures, it’s a slippery slope from there,” he says, running his fingers down Louis' back. “Hey, you didn’t answer my question,” he says, trying not to sound like he’s pressing Louis too much.  
  
“I’m sure, yeah. It feels weird if I’m topping.”  
  
“Do you feel it in your…?” Harry starts and Louis snorts.  
  
“I do, yeah. If I’m the one getting fucked I still have access to my cock so I can stroke it and feel something around it.”  
  
“Have you tried plugs or any other toys that you can keep inside you if you’re topping? It’d give you a physical sensation to ground yourself, wouldn’t it?”  
  
Louis wonders for a few seconds. “That might work.”  
  
“I’m willing to try when you are,” Harry says and smiles when Louis cups his face.  
  
“You’re very sweet to me, thank you.”  
  
“No need to thank me, I’m just being a decent person,” he says and Louis kisses him a little more deeply this time.  
  
“Hard to find them these days,” he says between pecks. “Got condoms? I’ve got them with me, just in case.”  
  
Harry nods and turns on the bed to grab the necessary items from his nightstand. When he turns back around Louis has laid on his back and his knees are bent, legs apart. Harry hurries to get between them, and kisses Louis' inner thigh.  
  
Louis smiles, looking down at him. “Love you so much,” he says and Harry feels his heart flutter in his chest.  
  
“Love you too, very much,” he says with a smile and leans over to kiss Louis briefly on the lips. He sits back down on his heels, and opens the cap of the bottle of lube in his hands. He puts a little in his index finger and circles Louis' rim, making sure the whole area is covered in lube before putting more on his finger and slowly pushing it inside Louis.  
  
He’s done this before while sucking Louis off, and knows from experience it won’t take long before he can add another finger. He hasn’t gone past that, and he pulls his finger in and out a few times before even trying to add a second one. He’s more than relieved he’s trimmed his nails just the day before.  
  
“Okay?” he asks, looking up at Louis. He nods, biting on his lips. He’s got one hand lazily stroking his cock, which is showing signs of getting full and hard again. Harry can definitely feel his own starting to throb.  
  
“One more,” Louis demands and Harry squirts more lube on his hand, pushing another finger in. Louis hisses this time and Harry stops at the first knuckle. “Still okay, just that small burning feeling,” Louis assures him and Harry nods. He pushes two whole fingers in and Louis moans loudly, throwing his head back.  
  
Harry keeps his fingers still, breathing fast. Louis is incredibly tight around his fingers, and so warm Harry feels himself beginning to sweat at the idea of being inside of him. He crooks his fingers just a little bit, and smiles when Louis cries out.  
  
“Like that, yeah, like that,” he’s repeating as Harry strokes his prostate, making Louis grab fistfuls of the sheets beside him. “One more,” he asks, and Harry nods, even if Louis can’t see with his eyes closed.  
  
He drops even more lube on his fingers and pushes his ring finger inside, earning himself a pained groan from Louis. “Too much?” he asks, concerned.  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Gonna need that stretch if I have any hopes of having you inside me,” he says and Harry rests his head on Louis' bent knee, feeling his cock hardening more and more. He pumps his fingers in and out, feeling Louis' hole stretch around them. He’s not stopping until Louis tells him he’s ready.  
  
“You feel so tight,” Harry tells him, and Louis whimpers. They lock eyes and Harry can tell Louis is looking right through him, knows exactly what he’s feeling.  
  
“Think I’m ready,” Louis tells him. If Harry weren’t so goddamn horny he would’ve maybe argued that it probably wasn’t enough, but his brain is clouded and Louis is sitting up, making his fingers slide out of him. Without thinking, Harry wipes his wet fingers on the sheets. “Can I put the condom on?” Louis asks, and Harry nods.  
  
He watches Louis carefully torn the package open and blow on both sides of the condom to find the right one. He then pinches the tip and places it carefully on Harry's cock. With firm strokes he slides it down Harry's shaft, and he can only moan at how sensitive he already is, even after his orgasm not fifteen minutes ago.  
  
Louis grabs the lube and pours it onto Harry's cock, stroking it lightly to coat it thoroughly before bringing his wet hand to his hole and adding more lube there.  
  
“How do you want it?” Harry asks, holding his cock firmly in his hand, squeezing the base tightly.  
  
“Like this, to start? Then we can change if you want,” Louis suggests and Harry nods. Louis gets one of the pillows and puts it under his hip, giving Harry an easier access to him. Harry is stroking one of Louis' legs with one hand as he guides his dick to Louis' entrance with the other.  
  
“Tell me if you don’t like anything I do,” Harry tells him and Louis nods in agreement.  
  
At first Harry doesn’t think he’s gonna fit. The lube is helping but he’s still finding it very hard to get the head past Louis' rim. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says and pushes a little harder.  
  
Louis gasps and bites his lips when Harry slides inside. Harry sighs, feeling the pressure of Louis' walls almost too much for him to bear, his fingers digging deep on Louis' hips. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice strained from the pleasure that’s already traveling from the tip of his cock to his whole body.  
  
“Not enough to stop. Come on,” Louis urges, and when Harry hesitates he feels Louis wrap his legs around his thighs and push him forward.  
  
Harry closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of Louis' heat enveloping him so thoroughly. He opens them just a few seconds later, looking down at Louis. “Okay?” he asks, and bends over to give Louis a kiss on the mouth.  
  
Louis nods. “Okay,” he says and Harry sees his tongue dart out, looking for Harry's. He dives into the kiss, letting Louis guide it as much as he wants. Louis starts to move his hips a little, and Harry gives him enough space to do so. “You can move,” Louis allows him, and Harry takes a deep breath and starts to thrust slowly in long movements of his hips.  
  
Louis' response is immediate, every little movement Harry makes drawing a different sound from his mouth. He starts to slowly pick up his pace, and with it Louis' moans grow louder and his nails on Harry's back dig deeper. “Harry, oh Harry. Fuck!”  
  
Harry is starting to breathe deeply through his nose to stave off his orgasm. Just the sight of Louis with his face scrunched up in pleasure beneath him is enough to keep him on the edge. That combined with how amazingly perfect Louis feels around him is making it harder and harder for Harry to keep his orgasm at bay.  
  
He sits back, grabbing Louis by his hips and pulling him along. His cock slips out and Louis whines. “No no no, get back here,” he begs, clawing at Harry's legs to beckon him closer. Harry takes the lube again and pours even more along his shaft before entering Louis again. “You’re in so deep. You’re so big, feel so good,” Louis moans, incoherently, high pitched and perfect.  
  
Harry growls. “You feel so good, Lou,” Harry says, and smiles smugly when Louis cries out. “There?”  
  
“There!” Louis says, voice wrecked and hoarse while Harry tries to keep his thrusts at the same angle and pace. It proves to be very difficult with the way Louis is arching his back and looking positively sinful with his red bitten lips and glossy eyes.  
  
Harry can feel his hair starting to stick to his sweaty neck. His orgasm is slowly but steadily building and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold it back. He carefully balances himself on one arm and reaches for Louis' cock. The sound Louis makes tells him he’s doing something right.  
  
Without any warning, Louis comes. It’s fast and messy and he clenches around Harry so hard that he needs to stop moving or he’ll come. He keeps stroking Louis' cock, lightly and slowly until he’s sure he’s given Louis the most pleasure he can but without making it too sensitive.  
  
He pulls out and Louis hisses, laying back down on the bed. Harry watches him, looking so spent and fucked out that his cock twitches. He’s panting hard and his eyes are closed as he breathes through parted lips. “You look so pretty, Lou. Love you so much,” Harry says and Louis smiles, slowly opening his eyes.  
  
“Your turn, yeah?” he says and beckons Harry to move closer. “You can continue fucking me if you want.”  
  
“And lose the opportunity to make you feel another orgasm? I don’t think so,” Harry says and Louis grins.  
  
Harry straddles Louis' hips, avoiding his sensitive cock. Louis carefully unrolls the condom from Harry's cock and he hisses a little, panting. Louis is quick to work him with his hands, and in a matter of seconds Harry is coming on his stomach and chest, thick strands of come that coat Louis' skin.  
  
Harry hears Louis orgasm beneath him, and opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight again. Louis is thrashing on the bed, head thrown back and lips parted. It takes him a few seconds to get his breathing back to normal.  
  
“I can’t believe you made me come four times,” Louis says and Harry chuckles.  
  
“I gotta tell you, it doesn’t always happen,” he admits and Louis laughs. Harry gets the wipes and cleans Louis up quickly to lay his head on his chest, staring up at him. “Love you, loved this.”  
  
“Me too,” Louis says and Harry purrs when he starts to scratch his nails on his scalp. “Will definitely still feel you tomorrow,” Louis says and Harry frowns. “I’m just teasing you, stroking your ego a little bit,” Louis adds, mirroring the sudden ting of guilt Harry feels at the comment. He strokes Harry's hair until Harry closes his eyes and smiles a little.  
  
“I’m gonna sleep if you keep going with this” Harry says, yawning.

“Let’s take a nice shower and get back in bed, yeah?” Louis suggests and they do just that.  
  
Except they’re both too hyped up to go to sleep just yet, so Louis ends up painting Harry's nails for him as they talk and listen to music. They wait for it to dry with Louis feeding Harry small bites of chocolate and watching a stand-up comedy show on Netflix - usually pretty safe for Louis to watch.  
  
Harry smiles when Louis curls up to him, laughing at something on the TV he’s barely paying attention to. Harry feels inexplicably happy. Well, not exactly inexplicably. His reason for being so happy is laying right next to him.  
  
Louis sits back up, eyes crinkling with laughter and they only grow deeper when he looks at Harry. “I love how happy you are around me,” he says, and Harry gives him a kiss on the forehead.  
  
“Are you happy around me as well?”  
  
“Double happy because your happiness adds to mine,” he says and Harry grins. “You’ve brought so many good things into my life, H. For the longest time I thought I wouldn’t feel like this, with anyone. Sure, I have Niall and Liam, but it’s not like this,” he says and Harry nods.  
  
“I know exactly how you feel,” Harry says with a nod. After the longest and loneliest year of his life, he can barely believe his luck.  
  
“Are you sure? I thought I was the one with the synesthesia here,” Louis teases and Harry pulls Louis closer to him.  
  
                                                                                           ~X~  
  
“To Louis!” Niall cheers, clinking their full pints together.  
  
“To Louis!” Liam and Harry repeat after him while Louis mumbles something under his breath, face red with embarrassment.  
  
Harry pulls him closer to him in the booth, rubbing his hand down Louis' arm. “Thanks, lads,” he says and smiles.  
  
“And to think that only two short years ago you were just an unpaid intern. Now you get two whole segments just for you,” Liam says from across the table where he’s sitting next to Niall. He squeezes Louis' hands and even Harry can see he’s genuinely happy for Louis, not a hint of jealousy in his tone and face. Liam has more prestigious air time, that’s true, but maybe a less noble man would feel the sting of envy nonetheless.  
  
Louis really knows how to choose his friends.  
  
“Are you ready, boys?” a waiter asks, approaching their table. Harry places the card with “One Direction” written on it at the edge of their table. They’re still using the name after all these weeks. They all feel it fits them, somehow.  
  
“Ready,” Harry says, and they receive their envelope with the first round of questions: Sports.  
  
Harry is very familiar with the drill by now. He waits impatiently for the quiz master to talk through the rules and prize for the night – all rounds paid for the table – and as soon as they’re authorized, Liam pulls out the piece of paper and they all crane their necks to read it.  
  
“Fuck,” Niall says under his breath. That’s usually their first reaction to a new set of questions, but he quickly shouts the answer to a golf question. They all shush him to keep it low, and he whispers it again, excitedly. They guess some of the answers and argue about the amount of medals Great Britain won during the 2016 Olympics until their time is up and they have to give back the card.  
  
There are nine groups competing and they score in fifth place, thanks to Niall being weirdly into golf.  
  
Next up is Entertainment, and they nail this one. The question “Who won the seventh edition of the X-Factor in 2010?” reveals that Harry had auditioned that year.  
  
“Didn’t make it through the cut and cried for a week,” he says between laughter. “Can’t even begin to imagine how my life would’ve turned out if I’d gone through.”  
  
“Well you wouldn’t be here with us if you’d made it through, now would you?” Liam says and Harry ponders.  
  
“I have a feeling I would,” Harry says and shrugs off the shivers that suddenly gives him goosebumps.  
  
After Science and Nature they climb to the third position in the ranking. It’s the highest they’ve ever gotten, and the energy at the table is different. They’re more focused, and Louis is drumming his fingers on the table before the next round.  
  
Harry and Niall are the best in this one, identifying the people shown on the screen for ten seconds. It’s Liam who guesses the final one, and they hardly believe it when they realize they’re tied up for first place in the final round.  
  
“We can actually win tonight, can you believe it?” Niall says, eyes wild and laughing.  
  
“We will, the next one is music and Louis will nail this one, like always,” Liam points out and Louis tenses next to Harry.  
  
“You’ve got this, yeah baby? And even if you don’t, it’s all good fun,” Harry says, lightly squeezing Louis' thigh.  
  
“You’re right,” Louis says and smiles, straightening up in his chair, chin high. Harry puts his arm across his shoulders and runs his thumb on the warm skin of Louis' neck. The soothing seems to work, and Louis is back to being a bouncy ball of energy.  
  
The Music round starts, and Harry can never be too impressed with how fast Louis identifies each song that is played. They all know most of them, but it’s Louis who knows every single one. For the first time, they’re not chatting much when the last round ends, now that it’s possible for them to win.  
  
They crane their necks towards the quiz master when he starts speaking again. Harry and Louis are holding their hands together under the table, Harry's clammy with nervous sweat.  
  
“We have our winner tonight! With a difference of a mere two points, the table who wins tonight and doesn’t have to pay is… One Direction!”  
  
They cheer and howl like they won a million pounds prize. The whole pub is cheering with them, and they stand up to hug one another, giddy with joy. Louis and Liam hold each other tightly and sway in place, and Niall is squeezing Harry so hard that he has trouble sucking in a breath to laugh.  
  
When they let go, Harry goes straight to Louis' arms. He holds him close, feeling the small puffs of air coming from Louis' laughter tickle his neck. He kisses him full on the lips, hard and maybe a little longer for a public place. Niall whistles and they pull apart, giggling.  
  
The waiter comes and collects the tab from their table, bringing them an extra round of drinks. Some people from tables around them, mostly familiar faces, come and pat them on their backs, congratulating them.  
  
Harry feels high on endorphins as he gulps down some of his beer, Louis giving his extra one to Niall, who doesn’t even turn pink on the cheeks.  
  
They hang out a little while longer, until it gets a little too late for a week night. They still linger outside in the cold, talking, hesitant to say goodbye.  
  
“What a night, mates, what a night,” Niall says, stomping his cold feet on the ground.  
  
Harry has Louis against him, his back to Harry's chest, arms tangled together to keep themselves warm. “Harry here was what we were missing to finally score a win,” Louis says and Harry holds him tighter.  
  
“We wouldn’t have won if it weren’t for you,” he replies and both Niall and Liam roll their eyes at the same time.  
  
“Come on, Li. Let’s go before they start doing something that would be frowned upon in public. Not by me, but to society as a whole,” Niall says as he walks towards them for a hug.  
  
Harry hugs them both, saying his goodbyes with a promise to hang out at Harry's the following weekend for New Year’s. Louis' hugs last a little longer and Harry smiles at the love he has for his friends. They finally wave goodbye and rush to Louis' car.  
  
“Are you tired?” Louis asks him as he drives away from the curb.  
  
“Last time you asked me that I ended up balls deep in you, so I’m not sure how to respond to that,” Harry jokes and Louis cackles.  
  
“I feel you’re not, but I just need to make sure, yeah?”  
  
“I’m not tired, why?”  
  
“Let’s go for a drive, yeah? It’s a beautiful night and I don’t wanna go home just yet,” he says and looks to Harry for confirmation. Harry nods and turns on the radio.  
  
It’s a great routine they’ve established. They realized early on that neither needed fancy date nights, and Harry was happy to be around Louis no matter what occasion.  
  
The cold night kept people on the streets to a minimum, and traffic is sparse at this time, even for London. Harry doesn’t pay close attention to where they’re going, and before he knows it they’re parked by the Thames in a quiet area, with very little traffic. Louis shuts the car off but leaves the radio on. For once there are no clouds in the sky and Harry can see the moon and a couple of the stars who shine the brightest.  
  
“Beautiful night,” he says and Louis hums, taking Harry's hand between his. Harry looks at him with a smile.  
  
“I love you, Harry,” Louis says and Harry can feel himself turn into a pile of mush at the softness in Louis' voice.  
  
“I love you too, Lou,” he says and unbuckles the seatbelt. Louis does the same and they sit as close as they can in their seats.  
  
“Thank you for being so patient with me, I know I can be a lot to handle,” Louis admits and Harry can see how much he’s struggling to say that.  
  
“It’s a privilege to be around you, Lou,” he says and kisses the back of Louis' hand.  
  
Louis' expression lights up when the next song starts. “Do you know this song?” he asks and Harry nods.  
  
“It’s ‘Finding You’, right?”  
  
“I always think about you when I listen to it. Thought it could be our song,” Louis says nervously, as if Harry wouldn’t love the idea. A song that talks about people finding each other across different lives and loving each other forever is exactly how he sees himself with Louis.  
  
“I think it fits us,” he says with a nod and a smile. Louis turns on the car and drives away. Harry watches him drive. He’s the most beautiful things Harry has ever seen, and he thinks he’ll never understand why Louis chose him over everyone else.  
  
“Lou?” he calls, and Louis turns his attention quickly to him. “You’ll always be my happy ending.”  
  
Louis' smile tells Harry he knows exactly how he’s feeling.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you so much for reading my story! The songs in this fic were a mix of my friends' suggestions and some I thought would be fun to include. I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/carolinesc19/playlist/1FtIhqcaQRSVxSRELnRjnP?si=KN_QjGz3RzmfxQwMP5Os3A) on Spotify in case you want to hear it :) As always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> There is a Tumblr [post](http://pinky-heaven19.tumblr.com/post/171945016539/mirror-touch-by-pinkyheaven19-on-ao3) you can reblog to help spread the fic :)


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